


ICARUS: When We Were Strangers | Din Djarin

by endlesssunlitdreams



Series: Icarus | The Mandalorian [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesssunlitdreams/pseuds/endlesssunlitdreams
Summary: A collection of one-shots(?) of some of Din and Cato's adventures before the first book in this series.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Male Character, The Mandalorian & Grogu
Series: Icarus | The Mandalorian [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152044
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Motok, Cyrkon

3 ABY...

Cato shakily got to his feet and half stumbled across the cargo bay, quietly climbing into the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian’s ship. 

He didn’t know how long it had been since they escaped Kappa V. Time had blurred together for Cato, leaving him wondering if it had been days or merely hours. However long it had been, he had spent most of it laying on his back on the cold metal floor, wishing for sleep to overtake him. And apparently it had, or he had fallen into such a state of detachment that he was no longer aware of his surroundings, for when he had come back from whatever level of consciousness he had been in, he found a blanket folded up beside him that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

As Cato stepped into the cockpit, he noticed the slight turn of the Mandalorian’s head, signalling his presence had been noted. The Mandalorian didn’t speak, simply continued piloting the ship. 

Cato half sat, half fell, into one of the seats behind the pilot’s. Once again, Cato noticed the Mandalorian turn his head ever so slightly in his direction. 

“Where are we going?” Cato asked, his voice quiet and hoarse from disuse. 

“Cyrkon.” The Mandalorian answered shortly. 

Cato wracked his memory for information on Cyrkon. From what he could remember—which was almost nothing—it was a planet in the Outer Rim with a toxic atmosphere and was known as a hive for smugglers and pirates. “What’s there?” He asked, not particularly liking the idea of going to a planet that was likely to be crawling with bounty hunters who could be looking for him. 

“Fuel.” 

Cato nodded but didn’t say anything. He guessed he would unfortunately have to learn to call Cyrkon home for at least a short span of time. Afterall, his deal with the Mandalorian only extended to getting him off of Kappa V. Technically, the Mandalorian could throw him out an airlock right now and it wouldn’t be breaking their promise. 

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Cato spoke up. “Um...thanks...for the blanket.” He said quietly, looking at the floor beside the Mandalorian’s foot. 

The Mandalorian nodded slightly in acknowledgement. At first Cato thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but after a couple seconds they spoke up. “I couldn’t tell if you were awake.” He said. 

“For a second I thought you may have died.” 

Cato let out a soft scoff. “Unfortunately I’m still alive.” The Mandalorian turned their head again slightly but didn’t speak. 

The rest of the flight passed in silence. 

Eventually, they came out of hyperspace and Cato could see the planet Cyrkon in front of them, the atmosphere a swirling mixture of yellows and oranges. 

The ship entered the atmosphere, headed towards a large city protected by a clear dome. Cato vaguely remembered that the capital of Cyrkon was Motok, and figured that it was the city they were approaching. The Mandalorian steered the ship towards one of the several gates to the city. 

As the ship came to a hover outside one of the gates set in the metal base of the dome, a commlink opened up from this gate’s communications office. 

“Purpose in Motok?” A voice asked. 

“Refueling.” The Mandalorian answered. 

“Chain code.” The voice requested. 

“Two hundred Imperial credits.” The Mandalorian said, not even pausing to consider giving his chain code. 

The voice was silent for a moment. “Three hundred.” They countered. 

“Two hundred and fifty.” The Mandalorian negotiated. 

The voice didn’t answer, but the gate in front of them opened, welcoming the ship into an intermediate chamber. Once again, the ship hovered before another set of gates. The gate they had just   
passed through closed behind them, leaving them locked in the metal chamber. 

Cato held his breath, worried about being attacked or betrayed. However, a little display on the metal of the gates ahead of them blinked to life, communicating that all the air in the chamber was being extracted so as to keep the toxins found in the atmosphere out of the city for the most part and that at the end of the countdown displayed on the screen they would be welcomed into the   
city. 

Sure enough, forty seconds later and the next gate opened with a hiss and the Razor Crest entered a bustling but very drab hangar. The Mandalorian landed the ship in a tucked away corner and then stood, exiting the cockpit. 

Cato followed behind slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. He stood tucked against a wall as he watched the Mandalorian speak to a man dressed in a communications uniform instead of a mechanics one. Cato guessed that this was the person that had contacted them when they were coming through the gates. The Mandalorian handed over a stack of credits and the man pocketed them before leaving. 

A few seconds later and a woman in a mechanics uniform walked over and started speaking with the Mandalorian. A few more credits were handed over and then the woman nodded and walked away. 

The Mandalorian turned to look up into the ship, seeming to locate Cato instantly. He beckoned and Cato glanced around as if there was someone else the Mandalorian could be referring to. 

Obviously, Cato was the only person on the ship. He cautiously walked to the edge of the open doorway and hesitated a moment before walking down the ramp to join the Mandalorian. 

As soon as Cato was on the hangar floor, the Mandalorian pressed a few commands on his vambrace and the ramp retracted a bit before folding up and sealing up the doorway. 

“Are we going somewhere?” Cato asked quietly, his arms folded across his chest and his shoulders hunched in an effort to keep himself mildly warm in his thin shirt and also to give himself some comfort. 

The Mandalorian nodded mutely and then turned and started walking away. Not wanting to be left alone, Cato hurried after the Mandalorian. 

Once finding the exit to the hangar, the duo was spit out onto the busy streets of Motok. The two stood still, tucked out of the way as the crowds moved quickly past them. 

“Do you have anything valuable on you?” The Mandalorian asked quietly. 

Immediately, Cato’s hand went to his chest, feeling Va’syll’s ring on its chain under his shirt, and a little above it, the shape of his kyber crystal shard. The cold metal of his lightsaber hilt pressed into his waist, confirming that it was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers, hidden by his ill-fitting shirt. 

Cato quickly dropped his hand, not wanting to call attention to the items he carried.

The Mandalorian, however, had already taken note. “If it has a clasp—,” 

“It doesn’t.” Cato cut him off. He had purposefully chosen a chain just long enough that he wouldn’t need a clasp, lowering the risk of it breaking, or in this case, being stolen. 

Cato observed the bustle of the streets, thinking about what the Mandalorian was getting at. It wasn’t...crowded per se, but there was enough activity that it would be difficult to move through the crowd without brushing against people, which in a city known for being a haven for smugglers and pirates and thieves, that was obviously a problem. 

A few moments later and the Mandalorian set off again, entering the bustle of the street and leaving Cato to catch up. 

Cato wove through the pedestrians, trying to avoid brushing against anyone as he tried to stay close to the Mandalorian. He didn’t understand why they had left the ship. He figured that in a city   
like this they would try to go out as little as possible. As Cato caught up to the Mandalorian, he stumbled slightly over the uneven ground, hand brushing against the Mandalorian’s arm before he   
caught himself. 

The physical contact made Cato flinch and pull away quickly. The Mandalorian had stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact and turned his head to look at Cato, but made no comment. Cato mumbled out a soft apology, wringing his hands together harshly and hunched his shoulders again, keeping his head down as they continued through the streets. 

They walked for a few minutes in silence, the only sounds being the sounds of the city and the snippets of conversation from passersby. 

“In here.” The Mandalorian said suddenly, making Cato look up. They were outside a cantina, the building low and grungy, yellowish lights flickering through the grimy windows. Motok wasn’t the nicest city, all the buildings in varying stages of disarray and their age showing clearly. But even by these standards, the cantina seemed particularly...unsavory. And yet, people seemed to be   
coming and going quite steadily and Cato could hear music and chatter from inside. 

Cato followed the Mandalorian inside the crowded cantina. The smell of alcohol and strangely scented smoke was heavy on the air, making Cato scrunch his face up. He stayed close behind the 

Mandalorian, noting how people moved slightly to get out of his way. 

The Mandalorian led Cato over to the back corner of the bar, where the bartop met with the wall. 

“Stay here and be careful. I’ll be back.” The Mandalorian told Cato, who immediately felt his blood run cold. 

“Where are you going?” Cato asked, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. 

The Mandalorian turned back around to face Cato, seeming to take him in for a moment. Even though Cato couldn’t see his eyes—or face for that matter—he could sense the Mandalorian’s gaze   
locked on him. The feeling of being caught under his intense gaze made Cato look away, embarrassed. He felt small and frail, and he knew he certainly didn’t look exactly strong and healthy right   
now, with his dirty hair that hadn’t been trimmed in a while, his thin white shirt that was covered in a layer of grime, and his undernourished frame. 

“I’ll be back.” Was all the Mandalorian said before turning and disappearing into the crowd, leaving Cato in a dim corner of the poorly lit cantina. 

Several minutes passed and Cato still hadn’t seen the Mandalorian. He didn’t even know if the Mandalorian was still in the cantina. Whatever the case, Cato’s anxiety increased every minute that   
went by, resulting in some torn skin on his hands and a bleeding lip. 

“How much d’you reckon he’s getting for you?” the voice asked, low, smooth, and cold. 

Cato startled, looking around wildly until his gaze landed on the trandoshan man who stood nearby, watching Cato with yellow eyes. Cato frowned slightly. “I’m sorry?” He asked, confused. 

The trandoshan blinked at Cato and moved closer, until he was sitting on the stool beside Cato. “I asked,” a clear inner lid flicked across the man’s eye. “How much do you think he’s getting paid   
for you?” he repeated. 

Cato looked away from the trandoshan. “You’ve got me confused with someone else, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, trying to ignore the man. There was clearly some misunderstanding where he thought Cato was a prisoner of some kind. 

“I don’t have you confused with someone else.” The trandoshan said certainly. “You came in with Mando.” 

Cato looked back at the trandoshan. “Who?” 

“The Mandalorian.” 

“You know him?” Cato asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

The trandoshan laughed. “As much as anyone does. Which is to say, not really. He’s well on his way to becoming one of the best bounty hunters in the parsec. The Guild is thrilled to call him one of their own.” 

Bounty hunter. The Guild. 

Cato felt his face pale. The words echoed in his head, fear and doubt creeping in. The Mandalorian was a bounty hunter. Was that why they were here? The Mandalorian was going to turn Cato   
over to whatever Imperial representative he had managed to strike a deal with? 

“And you?” Cato asked mekely. “Are you…?” 

The trandoshan blinked at Cato. “Am I a bounty hunter?” he asked, filling in Cato’s question. Cato nodded, unable to find his voice. The trandoshan smiled, revealing a mouth of small, sharp, white teeth. “No.” he answered. Cato nodded slowly, anxiety starting to muddle his mind. “You look a bit...pale,” The trandoshan noted. “You should drink some water.” he waved a bartender over, who after a moment placed a glass of water on the bartop. “Drink.” the trandoshan said, pushing the drink towards Cato. 

Cato tried to shake his head and refuse, but the trandoshan was insistent. 

“Please, drink.” They insisted. Cato eyed him nervously, not saying anything. The trandoshan sighed eventually. “It hasn’t been poisoned. Look,” he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. Once again, he offered it to Cato, who hesitantly took the glass and took a few cautious sips. 

At first nothing happened, and Cato thought he had just been being paranoid. 

But a few seconds later a wave of drowsiness hit Cato like a brick wall. His vision swam, everything blurring into blocks of colour. Cato managed to catch himself before he fell face first into the bartop. He tried to clear his mind of the heavy lethargy that weighed around him like stone, but he couldn’t think of what to do. He shook his head as if that would somehow magically dispel it. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt leaden and imobile. 

Cato felt his knees buckle, but the jarring impact of the floor never came. Instead, someone caught him and the last thing he remembered before everything fell away into darkness was the feeling of something slipping from his hand and the sound of shattering glass. 

♢

When Cato came to consciousness he was laying on his side, cheek pressed against the hard ground, and a rough wad of cloth shoved roughly into his mouth. He groaned, rolling onto his back only to crush his hands awkwardly under his weight as they had been bound together behind his back. 

Panic seized his heart as everything suddenly came rushing back to him and he forced himself to open his eyes, despite the dull ache in his skull. His surroundings came in focus around him, not that it helped much in the dim lighting. He seemed to be laying in a back alley, and judging by the state of general dereliction that the buildings were in, he was still in Motok. Or so he hoped. 

“Our friend is awake.” a nearby voice said, making Cato flinch and crane his neck to try and find the owner of the voice. A heavy weight on one of his shoulders stopped him and he muffled a cry of pain as his shoulder and his bound hands dug into the ground. Looking up, he saw a burly looking man standing above him, pressing Cato’s shoulder down. He smiled down at Cato, flashing sharp teeth at him. “Well, you're a pretty one, aren’t you?” He crooned, making Cato shudder. 

“Leave him alone, Tsuax.” A woman’s voice said from nearby. Cato craned his neck again, just enough to be able to see five figures that emerged from the shadows of the dead end alley. A red haired human woman stepped forward, tall and dressed in a patchwork of scavenged armour, she radiated an aura of power. She looked down at Cato, her eyes a bright silver and as cold as ice. Her lip curled as she looked at him. “I’ll admit, I’m curious as to who you are,” She hummed, her voice resonant and smooth. 

Cato tried to speak, to tell her he was no one, but his words became muddled and muffled against the gag. 

“Well, not curious enough to let you answer.” She added. “You carry some interesting items, my friend,” She said, and Cato felt his blood run cold as he realised he no longer felt the weight of his necklaces or the cold metal of his lightsaber hilt pressed against his skin. 

The woman knelt by Cato’s head and produced two items, holding them in one of her fists. Cato stared up at his ring and the crystal that dangled over him, their chain and cord held tightly by the woman. “A ring embossed with the insignia of the Rebel Alliance,” the woman mused. “We have a rebel on our hands.” She looked up from Cato to smile at the other figures gathered around her, one of which Cato recognised as the trandoshan who had drugged him. “Of course, if that wasn’t enough to get us a good deal for you, you also had this,” Cato’s heart dropped as her other hand reached behind her back and produced his lightsaber. She turned the hilt over in her hand. “This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight.” she hummed, looking over the silver and bronze hilt before flashing Cato a cold smile. 

“You need to move him quickly,” the trandoshan spoke up, a note of anxiety in his voice.   
The woman looked sharply at the trandoshan, apparently having heard the nervousness as well. “Is there something wrong, Nykt?” She asked coolly. 

“No, no,” The trandoshan—Nykt—said quickly. “It’s just he was travelling with that Mandalorian, you know, the one with the Guild.” 

The woman scoffed. “He is nothing to us.” she stood and clipped Cato’s lightsaber onto her belt and tucked his necklaces into a pocket. “Liux, Tsuax, get him up.” The woman commanded. The man who had been holding Cato down with his foot and a beefy rodian woman hoisted him to his feet, each with a firm grip on his upper arms. 

“Sor’ros,” A yellow twi’lek man with a sniper rifle over his shoulder stepped forward at the woman’s command. “Get back to the Deception and prepare for take off. Let our friend in the Empire know that we have a gift for Lord Vader.” 

Cato felt like he had been punched in the gut. No. No, no, no, no. 

Sor’ros nodded mutely and stepped around Cato, heading back towards the dark network of streets. “Zosyn, please get Nykt his money.” 

The togruta man who had been standing a little behind the woman, approached Nykt and held out a small crate, which the trandoshan opened. “Your payment.” He said stonily. 

Nykt looked up from the contents of the box. “How much is this?” He asked. 

“The same as always.” Zosyn answered. 

“Aezaeli,” Nykt said, turning to the woman. “I’ve just provided you with a top level candidate. I would appreciate some extra pay. Afterall, he is both a rebel and a jedi.” Nykt negotiated. “An extra two thousand credits would be greatly appreciated. Actually, throw in an additional two hundred because he’s good looking.” When Aezaeli looked over her shoulder to glare at Nykt, he nodded to the large man helping hold Cato. “Tsuax said so himself.” He defended. 

Aezaeli shook her head in exasperation. “Fine. But we only brought what you're holding, so you’ll have to accompany us to the Deception for the rest.” She relented. 

“A simple transfer would—,” 

“We only deal in cash, Nykt. You should know this by now.” Aezaeli interrupted, holding up a hand. “Now, we’ve dawdled long enough. We need to move.” 

Cato panicked again as he was forced to start walking, Tsuax and Liux guiding him roughly by their grips on his upper arms, not caring when they had to shove him roughly so he would stop dragging his feet. 

Aezaeli glanced over at Cato, taking in his panicked expression. She let out a cold chuckle and gave him a mock pout. “What’s wrong?” She asked. Then she reached over and pinched his cheek.   
“Smile, we’re going to take good care of you.” her lips curled into a cruel smirk. 

Cato forced himself to take a deep breath as the gravity of the situation settled in. He was weaponless and more or less powerless, about to be brought to Darth Vader, and he was alone. No one was coming to help him, he had to get himself out of this. 

As they walked out of the alley, Cato found that what he had assumed to be a public street was actually another alley. It seemed that he had been taken to a network of service alleys that ran between blocks. That meant that the chances of being helped by law enforcement or citizens was slim—not that it was very high in the first place. Cato had to assume that whoever these people were had enough money to bribe whoever may try to interfere with them. 

Cato forced himself to take a deep breath—as well as he could with the gag—he knew that if he succumbed to panic he may as well have gift wrapped himself. However, telling yourself not to panic and actually avoiding panic were two very different things and not something Cato considered himself a master in, though he had been forced to learn it in some depth to survive.   
He drew in a breath, counting to six, before holding his breath for six seconds, and then exhaling for the same amount of time. He repeated the process until he was able to think more clearly.   
Cato then moved from focusing on his breathing to Liux and Tsuax who held him. Something glinted on Tsuax’s belt and Cato realised it was a small knife. A plan began to form in Cato’s mind as he glanced at the knife out of the corner of his eyes. He shifted his wrists against the cord that held his wrists, thanking whatever deity who may be watching him that the bindings weren’t an actual pair of binders. 

Taking one last deep breath, Cato reached out with his mind into the Force. 

Liux stumbled on nothing, and let go of Cato to break her fall. 

Wasting no time, Cato feigned stumbling into Tsuax, lifting the knife off of his belt as subtly as he could and tucking the blade flat against his wrist. 

Tsuax shoved Cato away from him roughly and Liux righted herself, grabbing onto Cato’s left arm once again. 

“What was that?” Aezaeli asked, looking back to see what Liux had tripped over. 

“I don’t know. Must have been uneven pavement.” Liux answered. 

Cato did his best to keep his expression neutral as he maneuvered the knife to cut one of the stands of cord or whatever that held his wrists. A few seconds later and the bindings slackened a bit, still wrapped around his wrists, but no longer restricting him. 

Aezaeli looked away from the spot on the pavement where Liux had tripped and glared at Cato. “Keep moving.” She ordered, sending Cato one last glare before they started walking again.   
Knowing he didn’t have time, Cato quickly did his best to yank his arms away from Liux and Tsuax, praying that the element of surprise was enough to get him free.   
Liux’s grip faltered on Cato just enough for him to plunge the knife into Tsuax’s thigh, yanking it out a moment later and causing the man to cry out and crumple to the ground while Cato ripped   
the gag out of his mouth. 

Aezaeli and Zosyn reacted immediately, both drawing weapons, but Cato thrust a hand towards them, locking them in place and then curling his hand into a fist, leaving them to crumple to the pavement. 

Liux suddenly barreled into Cato, knocking the breath out of him. His head smacked into the pavement, making black dots dance across his vision. Liux wrapped both her hands around his throat and began to squeeze. 

Cato gasped, trying to get air into his lungs and struggled, head already feeling light. But Liux was easily twice as strong as him. Gripping the knife tighter in his hand, Cato slashed upwards towards her face. Blood splattered over his face and Liux screamed and fell back. 

Not having time to see what he had done, Cato kicked her off of him and turned to Tsuax who was kneeling on the ground, one hand trying to staunch the bleeding in his thigh and the other   
shakily trying to grab his blaster. 

Something dark and twisted came alive inside Cato at that moment, and not only that, but something immensely powerful. 

It was like the arena all over again. Cato just found himself moving and doing all these things. But unlike in the arena when he had fought the young girl, this time he saw everything. He was aware of everything. He could sense Liux shaking on the ground, Aezaeli and Zosyn unconscious, and Nykt hiding behind a stack of crates even though his back was to all of them. 

Cato grabbed Tsuax’s hand that was lifting the blaster and ripped the weapon from his grip before slashing the knife across the back of his hand, severing the tendons and rendering his fingers immobile. Tossing the blaster away, Cato moved away from Tsuax to Nykt’s hiding place. 

The trandoshan yelped as Cato walked around the stack of boxes. “Please, please, don’t kill me,” Nykt begged. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just doing business, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, you can go. You can go, I won’t...I won’t tell anyone, please, just let me live.” 

Cato stared wordlessly at the cowering trandoshan. Then he held out his free hand. “Your blaster.” 

Nykt fumbled with the weapon at his side, not offering up any resistance as he placed it in Cato’s outstretched hand. Cato closed his hand around the weapon, gripping it loosely, inspecting it for a moment. Then in the blink of an eye, he fired, the blast going right through Nykt’s right knee. The trandoshan screamed in pain and fell. 

Cato left him there and went back to the crew. He walked up to Zosyn who lay unconscious on the ground beside Aezaeli and shot him between the eyes. 

Liux let out a yell, and Cato whirled around to find the rodian woman running at him, blood spilling down her face from a gash that went right across her left eye. She raised a blaster and fired right at Cato. 

He had enough foresight and she was frenzied enough that it only grazed against the side of Cato’s neck, the heat preventing it from bleeding. Cato cried out and clapped a hand over it, stumbling slightly as white hot pain took over for a few seconds. 

Cato looked up in time to see Liux levelling her blaster at him, face streaked with blood and tears as her one good eye squinted at him. As she pulled the trigger, Cato reached his hand that wasn’t clamped over his neck and froze the bolt and Liux in place, the condensed red beam hovering in the space between them. 

Moving out of the line of fire, Cato uncovered the burn on his neck and readjusted the grip on his knife, moving to stand behind Liux before releasing her. 

The blast hurtled off into a nearby wall, and before Liux could move, Cato had a firm grip on her head with one hand. She struggled and grunted, but was weak from pain so she wasn’t able to throw Cato off. Holding her head as still as he could, Cato dragged the knife across her throat, hearing her grunts suddenly stop and warm blood pour over his hand.   
She crumpled to the ground the moment Cato let go of her. 

“You...you bastard.” Cato looked up from Liux to see Aezaeli getting to her feet. “I’ll have fun torturing you.” She snarled before lunging at Cato, swiping a hand at him. At first Cato thought she had talons, because as her fingers swiped over his shoulder, she left bleeding gashes in her wake. But one glance at her hand told him that it was actually parts of her armour that had been fashioned into claws on her right hand. 

Cato stumbled back, gripping the small knife tighter so it wouldn’t slip through his fingers now that it was slick with blood. 

Aezaeli lunged at him again, reaching her clawed hand to his neck. He ducked, one talon grazing over his cheek. He retaliated with the knife, trying to get to the less protected skin of her palms. 

He swiped at her and she grabbed his wrist, twisting so he dropped the knife and fell to his knees. 

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done in blood.” She snarled, smashing her knee into Cato’s face. 

Tears welled in his eyes and he felt blood start to fall from his nose and the sharp iron taste fill his mouth. 

Still holding his wrist at a painful angle that kept him on the ground, Aezaeli rached forward with her other hand and grabbed Cato’s neck, digging her fingers into the burn on his neck. Cato cried out as his vision went white. “That’s right, scream. Let the city hear your suffering.” She growled, leaning in closer to him. “By the time I’m done with you, the whole galaxy will know of your agony.” 

Cato’s vision cleared enough that he could see Aezaeli and without a second thought he smashed his head into hers as hard as he could. 

She fell backwards slightly, just enough to let go of Cato and let him scramble on top of her. He pinned down her clawed hand with one of his own, while his other scrambled to find the knife he   
had dropped. Aezaeli writhed under him and before she could attack him with her free hand, Cato pinned it down with one of his knees. 

Finally, his fingers grazed over something cold and metal. Grabbing the knife, Cato leaned closer to Aezaeli. Lifting the knife so the flat of the blade was against her lower lip, he pushed it between her lips. Her silver eyes stared up at him with a mixture of fury and terror. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked mockingly. Then he sliced sideways with the knife, the sharp edge cutting into her cheek. Her garbled scream filled the alleyway. “Smile, I’m going to take good care of you.” Cato quoted back at her. He sliced the other cheek as well. 

As Aezaeli writhed under him, sobbing and moaning in pain, blood bubbling at her mouth, Cato rifled through her pockets, grabbing his necklaces and unclipping his lightsaber from her belt. 

Then he climbed off of her and turned away, stumbling back down the way he had come, the cries of his three living captors echoing through the narrow street, Tsuax and Nykto both crippled, Liux and Zosyn dead, and Aezaeli with a smile she would never be rid of. 

♢

Cato didn’t know where he was going. He just stumbled down the night lit streets of Motok, trembling like a leaf and drenched in blood. And even if he knew where he was going, it wasn’t like he   
was really aware of his surroundings. 

It was a miracle he hadn’t been stopped by any law enforcement yet. 

He had no idea what to do. Even if Motok was known for rather lax rules, Cato had just killed two people and seriously maimed three. He doubted they would let that slide. And even if they did,   
the twi’lek—Sor’ros—would most likely seek vengeance for his fallen and crippled teammates. 

On top of not knowing where to go, Cato was left with the crushing and horrifying truth of what he had just done. He thought what he had done in the arena was bad...but this? Whatever he had just done, whatever inside him had snapped, it was fucked up. Seriously fucked up. He hadn’t just killed them, he had consciously hurt them. What had at first been about his safety had quickly left that realm and entered dangerously close into the domain of sadism. 

Cato turned a corner, and collided with someone. He hadn’t run into them with an extraordinary amount of force, but he still toppled to the ground, just staring hollowly at the sky far above. 

Maybe the shock of what he had just done would kill him. Maybe he would die right here, right now. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe it was the only way to set right what he had done. Everyone he had known probably thought he was dead by now. Maybe he was. Maybe this whole time he had been nothing but a spectre. Maybe he had died on the ship before landing here. Maybe...

“Cato?” 

Cato tore his gaze away from the distant sky and found a familiar beskar helmet staring down at him. 

“Where did you go?” The Mandalorian asked. “What the hell happened?” He asked, sounding almost concerned. 

“I—I…” Cato choked on his words. “They—,” He faltered. “I don’t—I can’t…” he could faintly see his reflection in the visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. His face was spattered with blood and tears tracked down his cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying. “I—,” Cato looked down at his hands and felt bile rise in his throat. They were coated in blood. The blood had started drying, leaving him with a cracked shell over his hands like some grotesque nightmarish monster. “They...my drink...I—,” he shook his head. “I woke up...an alley...the Empire...I...I…” He once again choked on the words. “I killed them.” 

He was unsure if the Mandalorian understood a word he just said, but that was the least of his concerns right now. 

The Mandalorian nodded slowly and helped Cato sit up, holding his shoulders. “Slavers most likely.” He said, somehow getting something out of Cato’s garbled story. “Come on.” He helped Cato to his feet. 

Cato was barely aware of that, he was just standing there, shaking and shivering. 

The Mandalorian looked at him for a moment, then carefully reached under the top corner of his breastplate and tugged his cape off, draping the worn fabric around Cato’s shoulders. “Come on.” 

He repeated, placing a guiding hand on Cato’s back and leading him forwards. “Let’s go. The ship is ready.” 

Cato numbly walked beside the Mandalorian, feeling like a shell. Fragile and empty.


	2. The Meadow, Kreios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple realisation and a promise

4 ABY...

Cato lay on his back, watching the sky. The ground was soft, and the meadow grasses and wildflowers danced at the edges of his vision. The sounds of birds, crickets, and soft wind through the nearby trees were the only disturbances to the silence. 

It was so...peaceful. 

The sound of shifting movement made Cato look away from the sky to the Mandalorian who lay beside him and was shifting his shoulders to get more comfortable on the ground. 

“It’s so beautiful here.” Cato said quietly. 

Din shifted his head so he was looking at Cato. “It is.” He agreed. 

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t haunting and fragile, it was comfortable. 

Cato shifted slightly so he was looking back at the sky, watching the blue hint to pinks and oranges as the sun reached for the horizon. 

“Do you like it here?” Din asked suddenly, making Cato turn his head again and see that the Mandalorian was still looking at him. 

Cato looked back at the sky and nodded. “Yes. I like it here.” He said with certainty. The Mandalorian nodded. Cato looked back at tDin, suddenly curious. “Why do you ask?”

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment. “There’s a village a little ways north of here. After we landed and while you were still asleep I went to talk to them.” Cato was curious. What had driven this man to go talk with some random villagers? “They have agreed to take you in. Give you a place to live, food, clothes, and whatever else you need in exchange for your help with the upkeep of the village.” He paused. “You could start over. Live a normal life.” 

“What about you?” Cato wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of Din leaving him left a hollow feeling in Cato. As if this bounty hunter had somehow filled a void that Cato hadn’t even realised existed. 

Din shifted his head, looking back at the sky. “I’ll go back to Nevarro.” He answered after a moment. 

“Will you visit?” Cato couldn’t help the hopefulness that crept into his voice. 

Caught off guard, the Mandalorian looked back at Cato. “Do...do you want me to?” He asked, almost hesitantly. 

Suddenly realising what he had said and implied, Cato looked away. "I...I guess." He admitted. "It's just...I don't have anyone left and...and I know we haven't known each other for very long, but—," He wasn't sure what to say. _The truth_. He decided. "But I don't want to lose you," He admitted quietly. "I know that we both made that promise when we were pretty far from sober but...I meant it." he said, embarrassment burning him alive.

Din was quiet for a few moments. Then, "I meant it too," he said quietly, making a smile spread across Cato's face.

Once again silence fell between them, and Cato found himself looking at the sky which was painted in the most wonderful colours, darkening blue fading to brilliant pinks and oranges and yellows, the clouds being basked in a golden light. 

“Can I—?” Cato asked suddenly, turning back to Din—a giddy feeling in his stomach at being able to refer to the Mandalorian by his name. “Uh…” Cato reached out hesitantly, taking one of Din’s hands that rested on his stomach and holding it loosely in his own, moving their entwined hands to rest in the grass between them. 

Cato nervously glanced at the Mandalorian who seemed to be staring at their hands. “Is this...okay?” Cato asked, unsure of what boundaries there were between them.

Din didn’t answer, just gently removed his hand from Cato’s grip. Cato felt his heart fall at the gesture, eyes sliding closed in embarrassment and guilt. 

But that guilt turned to confusion as he felt a warm—very human—hand gently grab his, carefully—almost hesitantly—entwining their fingers. 

Cato looked and found that Din’s ungloved hand was laced with his own, his fingers rough with callouses but gentle, and small scars littering his olive skin. 

“Yeah...yeah...it’s okay.” Din said quietly. 

Cato wasn’t sure what to say, so he just smiled and gently squeezed Din’s hand before looking back at the sky. 

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes began building to hours. The sun had set, leaving behind a blanket of stars and the faintest golden glow on the horizon. 

“I want to stay here forever.” Cato murmured. “With the flowers and the stars and the sunsets…” and with you. He wanted to say. “I want to spend all of eternity here, until my body rots and flowers grow from my lungs and saplings grow in my heart. Until I’m simply part of the planet, forgotten.” Cato continued. 

Din’s thumb rubbed circles into the back of Cato’s hand. “I would visit you.” He said quietly. “I would remember you.”

It was a bit of a grotesque image, the thought of a cowardly man rotting into the ground with flowers growing from his decayed chest and a feared bounty hunter coming to simply remember him. But there was a certain beauty to it in the imagery of being reclaimed by nature and in the sweet simplicity of those words. 

_I would remember you._

It was that night, laying in the meadow as the stars came out above them, that Cato realised he had fallen in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changed this ever so slightly because I'm adding back in some scrapped scenes that changed the Cato-Learning-Din's-Name Timeline


	3. Keldabe Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short little snippet of when Din realised he loved Cato.

Perhaps it had always been there, written in the cosmic dust of the universe that would eventually be written in the stars. Perhaps the stardust that made up their flesh and blood bodies had been one and the same eons ago, resulting in the comfort they found in each other despite having met barely a year prior. Or perhaps it was simply the way Cato looked at him, his blue eyes—which always seemed so frightened and sad—lighting up a fraction when his gaze came to rest on the Mandalorian.

Whatever the reason, Din knew that whatever it was, it was dangerous and unfamiliar. He found himself thinking of Cato at the strangest times. Such as walking through a market and wondering if Cato liked trinkets, and if so, what kinds? Or staring out the viewports of the Crest while in hyperspace and wondering what he was doing at that moment. Or how the moment he saw someone with the same brown hair with the reddish tones, all he could think about was Cato. 

It seemed like there had been a hundred times when Din left Kreios and told himself that he had to stick to his code, both cultural, personal, and occupational. He had a job to do and Cato couldn’t get in the way of that, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Perhaps it would be best if he spent some more time away and slowly started not going anymore. Slowly putting time and distance between him and Cato. 

But he always found himself returning to the green planet, even if just for a few hours. 

Focus. He’d have to remind himself. Remember the reason you’re doing this. The reason is...what? What’s the reason? Why are you here? And again he would think about leaving. 

But one look at Cato sleeping beside him, fingers just barely brushing Din’s, and looking at peace, was enough to to vanquish any thoughts of leaving. Whatever this feeling was...this...this sense of completion or unity, it was tied to Cato. 

It had started small, simply helping patch Cato up after a fight, not wanting him to suffer. Then it moved to not wanting him to get hurt. Then trying to protect him in fights. From there, it jumped to trying to make him happy, or at least content. Smiles, laughter, and joy followed. One thing led to another and now Din wanted to be close to Cato. He wanted to be near him, to feel the occasional brushes of their shoulders as they walked side by side, and the soft, gentle touches as their fingertips traced patterns onto the skin of each other’s hands while they lay side by side, an act that felt far too intimate to even think about for longer than a few seconds. 

It wasn’t until nearly two years had passed that it all finally came together for Din. 

He had just landed on Kreios after collecting payment on a bounty and had barely exited the Crest when Cato was there, pulling him into a short but tight hug. Din had just barely come to his senses enough to hug back when Cato pulled away and pressed his forehead to Din’s. 

“I missed you.” He had said softly. 

Din had stood frozen for a moment, wondering if Cato knew the significance of his actions—enacting a mirshmure’cya or keldabe kiss. Regardless of whether Cato knew what a keldabe kiss was or not, Din pressed his forehead forwards slightly, reciprocating the action. 

When Cato pulled back and opened his eyes and looked Din with so much profound trust and care, that’s when he knew. That’s when it all clicked into place. 

He loved Cato.


	4. S1 ep1–3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some itty bitty scenes from the first three episodes of season one. These are unedited and have the titles that I gave them in my notes, so they aren't great works of art.

Ep 1: JUST PROPOSE ALREADY 

“This was gathered in the Great Purge,” The Armourer stated, lifting the single ingot off the table to inspect it. A rich reward for just a down payment. “It is good it is back with the Tribe,” 

“Yes,” Din agreed, thinking about the request he had. 

The Armourer ran her gloved fingers over the ingot and then looked up. “A pauldron would be in order,” She suggested. Din gave a small nod, heart falling for a moment as he thought his plan may not work. But then he shook it off. There would be enough. “Has your signet been revealed?” The Armourer asked. 

“Not yet,” 

She stood and looked down at him for a moment. “Soon,” She assured, before turning away and walking over to the foundry. She moved with practiced ease, showing her skill and knowledge of the materials and tools in the room. As the foundry roared to life, Din watched the small river of molten beskar run down a trough, pooling in the mold. 

“This is extremely generous,” The Armourer stated as she began to prepare for the next step. “The excess will sponsor many foundlings,” She stated. 

Din nodded curtly, second guessing his idea. No. No, he wanted to do this. “If I may make a request,” He said quickly, before he could convince himself not to. The Armourer didn’t say anything, but she glanced back at him, a silent form of permission. “I would like a small amount of the excess to be set aside for a gift.” He said, feeling a momentary flash of guilt at the idea of taking even a small amount away from the Foundlings. 

The Armourer gave a nod, now facing Din and looking him over. “What form will this gift take?” She asked. 

Well, he’d gotten this far, he couldn’t back out now. 

Din hesitated for a moment before finally answering. “A ring,” 

Ep 3: lol heteronormativity 

“Take some time off, you’ve earned it.” Greef Karga suggested, gesturing at Din’s new set of armour as proof. He leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table. “There’s a rumour that you’ve got a girl offworld who you visit between jobs.” He said quietly. “Now, obviously partaking in rumour spreading is not something I get into, but if these rumours are true, then…” he trailed off and shrugged slightly. “Take some time off; go see your sweetheart, I’m sure she’d love it.” 

Ep 3: It’s okay, you live 

Din was pinned down, unable to land hits on any of the bounty hunters who had cornered him. He lay on his stomach in the speeder, looking down at the bundle of cloth that was the swaddled child. As he stared down at him—the sounds of blaster fire ringing around him—the child’s large, black eyes blinked open, staring at Din, some form of recognition crossing his features, before emitting a soft coo. 

Din couldn’t help the small smile, though it was weighted with the knowledge that he was about to be killed and the kid returned to the Imperial client. The Child wouldn’t be freed and Din wouldn’t be alive to even think about trying to save him again. 

The thought of Cato flashed through his mind and he felt a tug at his heart. He wasn’t going to see Cato again. Cato would wait for him to return but he never would. Maybe at first it would be   
fine—Din never visited Kreios on any sort of schedule—but then as days added up, he knew Cato would worry. 

He thought about Cato waiting for him every day, before losing hope and moving on. Perhaps Cato would think that Din had simply abandoned him, no longer caring—or having never cared for him. Even the mere thought of Cato thinking that of him made Din want to smack his head into a wall. 

The Child cooed again and Din stared down at him. 

I’m sorry. He thought, staring at the Child who he had failed. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out. And then he thought about Cato again. I’m sorry, Cato. I was going to come back, I was supposed to come see you today.


	5. The Valour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clip of a meeting Din and Cato had with a member of a crime syndicate during the year after the events on Kappa V.

Catonica, 4 ABY...

“What are we doing here?” Cato murmured to Din as they wove through the crowds of people that populated the interior of the shady bar. 

Din turned his head ever so slightly so he could see Cato out of the corner of his eye. “Meeting an informant,” He answered shortly, not wanting to stay long.   
The informant they were meeting was...not one of Din’s favourite people. Ytal was a slippery man who reminded Din far too much of a rat, but he worked for a massive organization and had more information at his fingertips than Din would have after months of searching. The quarry they were seeking was tied to Ytal, so they had to meet with him. 

A jolt went through Din as he suddenly realised Cato was no longer in his sights. He looked around quickly and resisted letting out a breath of relief when he found that Cato had just fallen behind a couple steps, looking at something. Din followed his gaze and frowned. Not something, someone. He watched as the twi’lek man, who was eyeing Cato up and down shamelessly, sent a flirtatious wink to Cato, something that shouldn’t have made anger flicker to life in Din’s belly. 

“This way,” He said gruffly, grabbing Cato’s arm and tugging him further into the crowd, searching for a booth, a sour scowl on his face the whole time. Cato was confusing. He was something complicated and amazing, something Din didn’t understand. He didn’t care that Cato slept with the first guy to make bedroom eyes at him in whatever seedy bar they were at. No, he certainly didn’t care about that. He shouldn’t care about that. Couldn’t care about that. What he cared about was _Cato_. And he worried. Stars, did he worry. 

It was scary sometimes what Cato could do. Din had seen him be stoic, cold, and dangerous in front of bounties and clients, he had seen him be all flirtatious smiles, lingering touches, and bruising lips with any of the aforementioned one-night stands. But what worried Din the most was when they were back on the _Crest_ and Cato was finally alone—save for Din. He had seen the way he shook as he wretched and cried before dragging himself into a dark corner where he didn’t sleep but just stared into a shadowed corner. And when he did sleep, Din was often called from whatever he had been doing to pin his flailing limbs down and wake him up, promising him that he was okay. 

Yeah, it was scary. It was like Cato could switch these personalities on and off like a light. And when he switched them off, what was revealed was terrifyingly sad. 

Glancing over to look at the man beside him, Din saw that Cato was wearing the mask that drove everyone mad with want. He exuded confidence and walked with a relaxed purpose, but the small smiles he would send to some of the patrons gave the taste of a promise for more. 

Din hated it. 

Finally he spotted an empty booth in the back of the bar and nearly dragged Cato over to it in his haste to get them out of the main space. 

When they slid into the booth, a server stopped by to offer drinks, but they both refused. When the server walked away it left them to sit in silence, watching the door for any signs of the informant they were waiting for. 

“Cato…” Din searched for the words. What was he supposed to tell him? Don’t trust Ytal? Don’t make him angry? “Try not to upset him. He’s...particular,” 

“Okay,” Cato said flatly, not an ounce of emotion in his voice. 

Minutes ticked by slowly as they waited, and only when Din was about to open his mouth to speak to Cato did he see the one they were waiting for. 

Ytal was a thin man and dressed in expensive but simple clothes. He was flanked by two armoured figures as he walked over to the booth, a smile already on his face. 

Din stood as he approached—Cato mimicking him—and stepped out to greet the man. 

“Ah, Mando,” Ytal said, even his voice screaming ‘ _do not trust_ ’ to Din. 

But he ignored it and shook the man’s hand. “Ytal,” He greeted simply. “I need information,” He said, jumping straight to the point. 

Ytal let out a chuckle, wagging a finger at Din. “Oh, Mando, Mando, Mando, always so straight to the point,” he said. “It’s what I like about you,” He admitted with a shrug. “Well, that and your skills, but ah…” His dark eyes flicked to Cato. “We have company, it seems. Please, introduce me,” He said, spreading his arms to Cato. 

Cato caught Din’s gaze for a moment and he could see the uncertainty in them before it vanished into the usual stoicism. 

“This is Cato,” Din introduced, feeling a little anxious as Ytal eyes Cato up and down like some expensive gift. “My partner,” he added weakly. 

“Cato,” Ytal practically purred. “So exquisite,” he continued, now circling Cato and seeming to inspect every inch of him. Din could see the discomfort flash across Cato’s face and was quickly working on a way to move past this when Ytal stopped in front of Cato again. “Ah, forgive me, I’ve been terribly rude,” he held out a hand. “My name is Ytal Sorex,” he introduced smoothly. 

“A pleasure,” Cato said simply, shaking Ytal’s hand once. 

“Tell me, Cato,” Ytal said, swooping to sit down at the table and patting the spot beside him, a clear invitation for Cato to sit. There was a half beat of hesitance before Cato sat. A smile spread across Ytal’s face and he ran the back of his hand down Cato’s front, smoothing out his jacket. “Where are you from?” Ytal asked. 

Din didn’t like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

“Naboo,” Cato answered shortly, the lie just flawless as ever. 

Ytal hummed in some kind of approval. “A beautiful planet. Not the home I’d expect of a bounty hunter like you,” 

Cato gave a curt nod. “People are full of surprises,” he answered flatly. 

“Indeed they are,” Ytal agreed. “I don’t suppose you’d be looking for a job—,” 

“Ytal,” Din said sharply, suddenly finding his voice. He felt his pulse speed up as Ytal looked at him with a thin smile, clearing unhappy with the interruption. “We’re here looking for intel,” Din managed to say, going back to the job. “We are hoping you can tell us about—,” 

“Ah, of course, we’re here on business,” Ytal cut him off with a smile. “How rude of me,” He shifted so that he was facing Din more squarely, but one of his arms stayed draped around Cato. Ytal quirked an eyebrow at Din and looked expectantly to the seat opposite him and Cato. “Well? Sit down. I’m sure we can come up with an arrangement,” 

Din sat, and as he did so, he heard Ytal’s guards shift into position behind him. A usual precaution.  
Din found himself unable to help looking over Cato’s expression intently, trying to search out his feelings. But Cato’s expression was a steel mask of calm. 

“Tell me, who are you looking for?” Ytal asked, drawing Din’s attention again. “How can The Valour help?” 

“We’re looking for a man named Felicus Morphyn. We were told he worked for you,” Din siad, keeping a close eye on Ytal’s face, looking for any change in expression. 

The corner of Ytal’s lips twitched up for a split second. “I know of Morphyn,” Ytal nodded. 

“Where is he?” 

“Well hold on one moment,” Ytal said, holding up a hand. “Morphyn is a valued employee—,”

“We’ll pay you for the intel,” Din offered irritably. 

Ytal leaned back in the seat, looking Din over lazily. “No,” He said simply. Before Din could ask why, he spoke. “Morphyn isn’t just important to _me_ , he’s important to The Valour. It’s not me you need to sate, it's the General,” 

“And what would pay for this information if not credits?” Din asked, getting a bad feeling about all of this. 

Ytal gave a lazy shrug. “You’re taking a life away from The Valour, we’d need to replace him. A life for a life. You’d have to give us a new employee, someone to pay off Morphyn’s remaining time,” 

Din hesitated. This wasn’t uncommon, but usually he could get around it. But The Valour wasn’t to be trifled with. And the payment for this bounty was too big to forgo. “Fine,” he relented after a moment. “We’ll find you a new employee,” 

“Oh, you misunderstand, I don’t need you to _find_ me a new employee, I just need you to agree. A simple contract,” The smile on Ytal’s face was making Din more and more uneasy. He knew better than to agree to this blindly. 

“Who would you be employing?” he asked. 

Ytal’s smile grew and his grip on Cato tightened as he sat forward. “Cato would suit The Valour well. His pretty face could get us in all sorts of places,” 

Ice seemed to spread across Din’s skin as he realised how serious Ytal was. “No,” He said sharply. No, he wouldn’t sign Cato away to Ytal. That was out of the question. A single glance at Cato was all it took to see the distress he was in. His stoic façade was still mostly intact, but his face had paled and Din could see he was so tense he was almost trembling. After his experience on Kappa V aand the close call on Cyrkon with the slavers, the discomfort and panic radiating from Cato in these situations were palpable. 

The smile faded from Ytal’s face and he leaned back surveying Din with an icy look, devoid of fear. “I’ve named my price,” He said with a disinterested note to his voice. “Take it or leave it—,” Din moved to stand, anxious to walk away from this deal. “—But just know that if you take Morphyn without going through me, you will bring the fury of The Valour and the General raining down on you and your _friend_ ,” Ytal warned. 

Din stilled for only a moment then stood up, staring down at Ytal with a cold glare. “Cato,” he said, eyes not leaving Ytal, though he was acutely aware of the guards moving behind him and Cato still very much in harm’s way. “We’re leaving,” 

For a moment Cato didn’t move, then he stood up, removing himself from Ytal’s grasp. Without a second glance at Ytal, Din placed himself between Ytal and Cato and walked away, following Cato back into the crowd. 

“ _I need a drink_ ,” Cato muttered in Mando’a the moment they were back in the crowd and out of sight of Ytal. 

Din wanted to argue, to say they should leave quickly, but a glance at Cato dried the objection in his throat. He couldn’t deny Cato, especially something as simple as this. He nodded once. “ _N’munit_ ,” _Not long_. He warned quietly, worried that Ytal would try anything to get to Cato. Or perhaps he was being paranoid. 

Cato nodded numbly and made his way over to the bar, Din following close behind. 

At the bar, Cato elbowed his way into a space and ordered a drink while Din lingered a few steps behind. 

Din scanned the crowd around them, looking for any sign of Ytal and his guards. But there was no sign of them. Yet. 

An unfamiliar voice speaking Mando’a caught his attention and he looked around, his gaze eventually falling on Cato and the man beside him. He was not a Mandalorian, did not wear the armour and certainly didn’t cover his face. And yet he was leaning over to talk with Cato, nursing a drink of his own and speaking fluid Mando’a. 

“ _—Mando’a is uncommon. Where’d you learn?_ ” he was saying. 

Cato gave a dull nod. “ _Learned while travelling. But I’m out of practice,_ ” He said, looking into his glass. Then switching to Basic, he looked up to keep talking with the stranger. “As you said, it’s uncommon. What’s your excuse?” 

The smile the man gave made Din uneasy and the single word that left his mouth made the unease grow. 

“ _Dar’manda_ ,” 

Din was so caught up in trying to decipher this man that he missed the conversation, and only noticed when the man started to lean closer in to Cato. 

Din wasn’t sure what drove him to do it. He didn’t trust this man, and after the meeting with Ytal his nerves were humming, almost begging for a fight. But it still gave him no right. 

He caught the man’s shoulder, pushing him back and placing as much of himself as he could between Cato and the man. “ _Ner_ ,” he stated stonily. _Mine_. 

The man looked up at Din, staring impassively into his helmet, eyes narrowed. Then he gave a shrug. “ _Ceratir r’hiibir_ ,” Point taken. He said lazily and turned away. 

Relaxing slightly Din turned back to Cato who was stone still and staring at the bar-top. “We should leave,” Din said quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed about what he had just done. He hadn’t meant to be so...possessive. He just wanted to get out of here. But maybe it had made Cato uncomfortable or made him think he belonged to Din. 

Cato nodded blankly and finished his drink, dropping a couple credits on the bar before standing and leading the way out of the bar. 

The walk back to the _Razor Crest_ was silent, Cato not so much as looking at Din and causing the Mandalorian’s mind to race, trying to find a way to fix this. 

Once on the ship, Cato just stood there tensely, staring at a spot on the floor. 

Hesitantly, Din reached out and touched his shoulder causing Cato to flinch back, a hurried apology in Huttese spilling out of his mouth. Din froze and wanted to hit himself. He _knew_ he couldn’t do that. He _knew_ that after something like all that he wouldn’t be able to touch Cato without triggering memories from Kappa V. He knew that. So _why_ had he done it? Din clenched his jaw, realising that no matter how much he wanted to comfort Cato he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. 

“You should sit down. I’ll get us one planet over where we can spend the night,” Din said softly, finally finding his voice. 

Cato obeyed instantly, sitting down in a corner of the cargo bay and holding his knees to his chest. Din felt a stab of guilt. If only he could find a way to assure Cato that he wasn’t giving him orders. That he wasn’t the keepers on Kappa V who had dealt plenty of pain to Cato. 

Din let out a small sigh of resignation and went up to the cockpit. He would find a way to help and to comfort Cato. One day. It wasn’t today, and it may not be soon, but he _would_ find a way to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**n'munit** _: not long 
> 
> _**Dar'manda**_ : the state of no longer being a Mandalorian 
> 
> _**Ner**_ : mine 
> 
> _**ceratir r'hiibir**_ : point taken (definitely an incorrect translation) 
> 
> New backstory piece! I have a handful more of these to publish but they'll probably be pretty spread out just bc I'm so tired. 
> 
> Oh man, it's possible I might deviate from the timeline in book 3 (this just depends on how far after the s2 finale s3 picks up) and I hope I don't have to bc it seems likely it will have the time gap that I will need. And if not I'll either have to stretch it or work my own timeline. But we'll see, it's a year away.


	6. The Covert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato is badly injured during a mission and Din brings him back to the Covert for medical help. Cato makes some friends and tries to fight Paz Vizsla.

Cato groaned in pain, his skin crawling in anticipation of the agony that was about to overcome him as he felt an itch building in his chest. He writhed on the bed of old and worn blankets, thrashing his head to the side in an attempt to ward off the itching need to cough. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as the frustration grew. It wouldn't go _away_!

 _Just get it over with!_ Part of him yelled to himself. _Just get yourself together and take it!_

Fire raced through Cato's entire body as he coughed, blood filling his mouth and making his stomach flip and churn as visions of the arena came crashing back.

 _No no no no no!_ He could scream at the frustration he was in right now. _Soon_. He told himself, seeking some kind of comfort. The Mandalorian said they would be there soon.

Yellow eyes flashed across his vision, young and wild with madness. He flinched at the sight, the movement aggravating the open wound on his chest and making a pathetic whimper slip past his lips.

"Cato?" the Mandalorian called from above.

 _Yes yes yes, please, come here. I don't want...to be alone._ Cato thought immediately, surprising himself with his own thoughts. Cato didn't say any of that, only managed a weak groan.

There was a heavy thud as the Mandalorian jumped down the last few rungs of the ladder.

Cato scrunched his face up as a particularly agonising wave of pain pulsed through his body. He was pretty sure his heart had moved to the middle of his sternum, for he could feel the sickening pulse there in the middle of his bloody chest.

The shifting sound of fabric brought Cato back to the present and he opened his eyes, finding the Mandalorian crouching beside him and looking him over. "We're almost there. I have to go up and start the landing cycle soon. But..." He trailed off, looking Cato over with what could only be described as concern. He didn't finish his thought. "I'll get you help. My people...they have more supplies. They'll help," He promised, though the last part seemed a bit uncertain.

The Mandalorian then set about changing the bandages on Cato's chest and applying the last of the bacta they had, the agitation to the wound making Cato throw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he bit his tongue against the scream he could feel begging to be let out.

Then the Mandalorian left to start the landing cycle, leaving Cato alone again with the ghost of the girl in the arena haunting his mind.

When they finally landed, the Mandalorian crouched beside Cato and took a deep breath. "This is going to hurt, I'm sorry," He apologised, ever sincere. Then he scooped Cato up as gently as he could with such ease that under different circumstances Cato would be blushing bright red and a stuttering mess.

But instead black spots danced across his vision and he bit his lip so hard he felt it starting to bleed, prompting him to stop before yellow eyes could haunt him again.

"Please..." He whispered weakly, grabbing the back of the Mandalorian's neck. He was too out of it to notice how rigid the warrior went. "Please make it stop," He begged, not even quite sure what exactly he was asking for help with. The pain? The memories? The fear? All of it? Cato didn't know. But he did know this was all too much and it was almost a relief when the darkness overtook him.

☀︎︎

Discomfort was the first thing Cato was aware of when he woke up. There was a dull ache in his chest and his skin felt too tight a bit feverish.

He groaned in pain and tried to roll over, only for a sharp stab of pain in his chest stop him.

Then he started to remember everything. Going after Morphyn and Ytal's guard who had shown up and wrenched a vibroblade up Cato's sternum. He remembered the Mandalorian killing the guard and letting Morphyn escape to drag Cato back to the Crest and set course for Nevarro, which luckily wasn't too far away.

_Nevarro. The Mandalorian covert._

Cato's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at a rough hewn stone ceiling. He turned his head and almost jumped out of his skin when he found a face inches from his. " _Fuck_ , what—?" he hissed in pain. Then he looked back, now expecting the close proximity of the face.

It was a young girl, eleven maybe, her chin resting on her hands which were flat on the thin mattress Cato was lying on. Her brown eyes were staring at Cato intently and he wasn't even sure she had blinked yet.

"Hi...?" he said, voice hoarse.

She blinked and tilted her head. "What happened to you?" She asked bluntly. "Vell said you were stabbed and wouldn't give me any more details. But Dja—,"

"Cidae, get the hell away from him," an angry voice said.

Both Cato and the girl—Cidae—looked up towards the door, where a hulking blue armoured Mandalorian stood beside Cato's familiar Mandalorian—now seeming so much smaller than usual standing next to the blue armoured Mando—and another unfamiliar Mandalorian with a greenish-blue hue to their armour.

"I said get away from him," The blue armoured Mandalorian snapped again, stepping forward.

"I was just asking whether or not he got gutted," Cidae argued.

"Cid," The teal armoured Mandalorian said in a warning voice. "You're not supposed to be here,"

Cidae groaned and got to her feet—revealing a set of partial Mandalorian armour—and crossed her arms, glaring at the three Mandalorians. "I'm _supposed_ to be learning how to heal people or whatever according to _you_ ,"

"Cidae," The teal armoured Mandalorian sighed.

"Vellira," Cidae shot back.

The blue armoured Mandalorian huffed and marched over, grabbing the girl's arm. "Come on, kid," he grumbled, dragging her away from Cato. "Go find Azio," He said, pushing her out of the door.

Cidae sent them all one last glare and then vanished down the hall.

Cato's Mandalorian paid this little mind and hurried to Cato's side. "How are you feeling?" He asked, a note of worry in his voice.

"Better," Cato grunted. "I mean..." He propped himself up on his elbows, only now realizing his shirt had been removed and his chest was wrapped in bloody bandages as the thin blanket fell back. "Uh..." Panic rose in him quickly at the thought of being so vulnerable.

"Hey," The Mandalorian placed a hand on his forearm. "It's okay. You're alright," he promised. "Vell patched you up, you'll be okay,"

The teal armoured Mandalorian scoffed as she walked up to the bed. "With plenty of rest, yes, he'll be fine." she commented dryly. "You're lucky you got him here when you did," She muttered. "A few more hours and there would have been nothing I could do," She said as she pushed Cato back so he was lying down again. Then she prodded Cato's ribs, Cato letting out a yelp of pain. "Oh, relax," she chastised gruffly as she continued to prod as she continued to prod around the bandaged wound.

The blue armoured Mandalorian scoffed and crossed his arms, seeming to glare down at Cato. Then his attention turned to Cato's companion. "Really? First you drag a half-dead outsider here and beg that we help him, and now it turns out he can't even handle a medical check-up?" he spat at Din. "You've stooped low,"

Shame welled up in Cato's chest and he had to look away from his familiar Mandalorian and the blue armoured one. Had bringing him here really damaged the Mandalorian's relationship with his people? Cato should never have let this happen. He should have insisted they not come here, find help elsewhere, or just let him die. He shouldn't have gotten injured in the first place. He was better than that.

"He needed help," His Mandalorian defended, not raising his voice.

The blue armoured Mandalorian snarled. "He's an outsider. He's not one of us, he's not like us. He shouldn't be here,"

" _Paz_ ," The teal armoured Mando—Vell—snapped. " _Ne'johaa_ ," _Shut up._

Cato couldn't look at any of them, instead keeping his eyes on the rough stone wall beside him. Paz was right. What was Cato doing here? He wasn't like these people, he didn't belong. He was an outsider.

Paz proceeded to grumble some colourful insults about Cato in Mando'a, making Cato's Mandalorian stand up abruptly and shove Paz back with a sharp push to the chest. Paz barely took a half step back, and then the two had vibroblades drawn and were going at it.

"Hey!" Vell shouted. "Enough!" she snapped, picking up something from a table beside her and throwing it, a glass vial shattering against the wall beside the two fighting Mandalorians. They both stilled, turning to look at the liquid running down the wall then to Vell, who pointed to the door. "Out." She ordered shortly. Paz muttered angrily under his breath, but Vell pointed again. " _Out_." She repeated stonily. Paz kicked at a rock and turned to leave, while Cato's Mandalorian started walking back over to the bed. Vell held out a hand. "Uh uh, _both_ of you. _Out_ ,"

For a few seconds it seemed like he was going to refuse, but then he huffed and turned, leaving Cato with Vell, who shook her head in exasperation and went back to prodding Cato's wound.

"They fight all the time. Don't worry about it," She said after a moment of silence as she picked up a pair of shears. "Paz can be a bit of a dick," She admitted with a shrug, starting to cut the bandages off Cato's chest to inspect the wound. "But Din can handle it. When it comes down to it, those two have each other's backs and that's all that really matters,"

Cato was silent for a moment, stuck on one part of her explanation, the sentence looping in his head. "Din?" He asked. _Din Din Din_.

Vell froze mid snip. " _Dank farrik_ ," she cursed under her breath, barely audible. She then resumed shipping. "Um...yeah. Sorry, I assumed he had told you." She said awkwardly. The look on Cato's face must have asked his question for him, because Vell laughed a little. "He hasn't had a partner in years—work or otherwise—and he's never ever brought one back home," She let out an amused snort. "It's a bit like bringing his fiancé home to meet the family,"

Cato was pretty sure he was blushing furiously at her analogy, but Vell didn;t seem to notice as she pulled the bandages back, revealing the grotesque and messy cut running up Cato sternum. She hummed, and not in a way that seemed good. Cato forced himself to look at it, wanting to turn away instantly. It was a mess of bloody tissue and white ooze inside the cut, and the edges of his skin were white and dead, and there was an add greenish tint to the skin around the wound that didn't seem like a good sign. And it was still bleeding. It looked like the blood had clotted up for at least a bit, but now blood oozed out of the cut making Cato's stomach churn. He had to look away.

"Well fuck," Vell sighed bluntly. "It's still infected. I was hoping the bacta would be enough," she shook her head. "I need specialised medicine for this," she said, walking over to a shelf of vials and boxes. She opened one. "And more bacta," She added, pulling out a handful of patches.

She walked back over and set them on the table before leaving Cato's line of sight. When she returned it was with a bowl of water and a cloth which she used to start cleaning the edges of the wound again. Cato winced every time the cloth touched his skin, no matter how gently Vell did it.

Eventually she sat back and placed the bacta patches on the cut, the patches feeling nice and cool against the uncomfortably warm skin of Cato's torso. Then she wrapped new bandages around Cato's chest, which was an awkward and painful process.

"You've had a rough life," Vell stated as she began to clean up the supplies. Cato made a noncommittal hum. "You've got the scars to prove it," Vell added. "He won't tell us anything about you, but the scars on your back are recent. So are the ones on your wrists. Cuffs, I assume," she said somberly.

Cato just gave a mute nod, unable to speak.

Vell didn't say anything else for a few minutes, leaving the room in a somber silence.

"So I'm assuming you guys _aren't_ together then," She said with a sigh.

Cato started, flushing horribly at the question, he was sure. "I—we...uh...no! I mean–I...nope. No," Cato stuttered. "No," He added one more time.

Vell looked at him for a moment then started laughing. "This is too good," She wheezed, sounding close to tears. "This is the best day I've had in a long time," She said, heaving for breath and grabbing her stomach. "Don't suppose you like girls, do you?" She asked.

"I–I—,"

"Yeah, figured as much," Vell said, sounding unperturbed. She let out another laugh. "Oh, I can't _wait_ to see this madness unfold,"  
 _  
☀︎︎_

_Cato was bedridden for the next three days, Vell only agreeing to let him up and around on the fourth because Cato was so miserable and she had managed to get the disinfectant medicine. Plus he had to 'prove it to Paz' that he wasn't weak._

_Cato's Mandalorian— _Din_ as Cato's brain helpfully reminded him a thousand times a day—was out finishing the job, much to Cato's dismay. In his absence, Vell had kept him company, but she had other work to attend to, leaving Cato with Cidae—who stubbornly showed up every day to ask him questions, only leaving when someone dragged her out._

_By the fourth day when Cato was allowed to walk around, Vell had appointed Cidae his official guide. Cato was only allowed in this wing of the covert, which Cidae repeatedly suggested they ignore that rule because it was 'boring' and 'adults and rules are stupid'. But Cato knew he was stretching his luck by simply being here, so he insisted they stick to this wing._

_"What's the biggest thing you've ever killed?" Cidae asked as they wandered around the medical wing._

_"Uh...I killed a rancor once," he said, wracking his memory while trying to avoid all the bad memories—of which there were a lot._

_"How'd you do it? Where were you? What was happening?" She asked with rapt attention._

_"Er...I don't really remember," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck._

_"What's your family like?" Cidae asked, immediately moving on to the next topic without question._

_Cato stopped walking, immediately overcome with a wave of memories and emotions. Braiding his little sister's hair and showing her how to throw a punch. Sitting on his mother's lap as she told him stories of her adventures and leaning over the kitchen table with her and a datapad as she taught him Mando'a. Riding around on his father's shoulders as he walked through the streets of Aldera, asking Cato what elements of the different buildings he liked so his next building could have them. And even older memories, his grandmother teaching him all about her grandmothers, the founders of clan Byrd and playing strategy games with him. His grandfather taking him on flights around Sundari with his jetpacks, and his aunts spoiling him rotten with sweets and toys._

_He snapped out of it when he saw a looming figure approach and recognised Paz. He hadn't seen Paz since the first day, but Cidae told him that he had been angry ever since._

_Paz ignored Cato though, only roughly knocking against his shoulder as he passed, the action almost sending Cato to the ground, only saved by Cidae—who despite being young and scrawny was surprisingly strong. As the blue armoured Mandalorian walked away, Cato heard him hiss an insult in Mando'a under his teeth._

_"Ignore him," Cidae said casually as Paz turned into one of the rooms._

_Cato glanced nervously over his shoulder, but kept walking. "You don't think he's right?" He asked with uncertainty._

_Cidae scrunched her face up. "About what?" She asked._

_"That I'm an outsider and don't belong here,"_

_"Nah," She said without a trace of hesitance. "I mean, yeah, you're not a Mandalorian, but you're with Din, so you're not _really_ an outsider," She reasoned. "Besides," She shrugged. "I think you're cool,"_

_Cato wasn't prepared for the blossom of warmth in his chest or the pride he felt in that moment. He wasn't sure why, but somehow this young Mandalorian girl thinking he was cool seemed to at least partially erase the sting of Paz's comments._

_"I think you're pretty cool too," he said, bumping her shoulder slightly. Cidae grinned at him. "Can I ask you something?"_

_"Shoot,"_

_Cato pursed his lips, hoping he didn't offend her. "You don't wear a helmet, so you haven't taken the Creed yet, but..." He trailed off. "I know he..." part of him wanted to say his name. _Din_. It was _right there_ on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't. It felt _wrong_ somehow. If the Mandalorian wanted him to know and use his name he would have told Cato._

_"Din?" Cidae asked._

_"Yeah," Cato agreed. "I know he hasn't shown his face since he was...I don't know. How old are you?" He asked, realising he didn't know._

_"Twelve," Cidae answered, puffing out her chest. "Barely," She added after a moment._

_"Twelve, right," Cato nodded. "I had been under the impression he swore the Creed when he was younger than that. Does not everyone swear to it at the same age?"_

_Cidae nodded. "Yeah. You have to be deemed 'ready' by one of the instructors," She said, annoyance clear in her voice. "So it's possible he was younger than me. But I don't know." She shrugged._

_"And you haven't been deemed ready?"_

_Cidae seemed to deflate a little, shoulders slumping forwards and eyes downcast. "Yeah," She agreed. "They say I'm not a 'team player' and that I'm too 'wild and unpredictable' and that I actually need to listen to them or whatever," she rolled her eyes. "It's stupid. I'm ready. I'm better than everyone in my group, I can handle it. But _no_ I don't get picked to swear to the Creed, but stupid Helion gets to. I beat him in _every_ sparring match we have. _Every single one_. And they _still_ won't let me take the Creed," she said bitterly, kicking a rock so that it skipped along the floor._

_"Hey," Cato clapped her shoulder gently. "You'll be ready soon. And in the meantime, you already _know_ you're better than the other kids, so why do you need everyone else's agreement. You and I both know you're the coolest,"_

_A sheepish smile—the first hint of any shyness—spread across Cidae's face and she bit her lip, trying to hide it._

_"You'll get there and you'll be the best in the covert," Cato assured her. Cidae grinned, stopping her attempts at hiding it. Then her smile fell and she looked pensive and a little sad. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, concerned. Had he said something wrong?_

_"It's just...I asked about your family and you got all quiet," she said. "My family is dead too," She whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask, I just...was curious. I know that this is my new family, but..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Most of the foundlings get adopted. Or they find someone to help them, to be a parent. But I didn't," she sniffed, frowning aggressively as she stared at the rock she had kicked earlier._

_"What about Vell?" Cato asked, thinking back to his first day. The two clearly knew each other._

_Cidae scoffed. "No. She's more like an obnoxious older sister. Or like...second cousin." she said._

_Cato pursed his lips, trying to think of how to help. "Finding a family can be hard," He said. "Sometimes you just...stumble across it," His thoughts jumped to the Mandalorian. He quickly redirected his thoughts to Cidae, resting both hands on her shoulders. "But you'll find one. You'll find one and they'll love you and you'll know it was worth the wait," he promised._

_Cidae nodded, still not meeting his gaze and Cato gently pulled her into a hug, careful not to pull her against his healing injury. He held her close, one hand rubbing her back and the other in her brown hair and she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly, pushing her face into his shirt._

_It hurt a little, but Cato didn't really mind at that moment. If he could help Cidae, provide the comfort she needed then it was worth it. It was worth his pain to dull someone else's, even if just for a few moments._

_☀︎︎_

_A couple days later Cato was dining with Vell, Cidae, and Vell's family—Clan Caen. Despite how hard he tried to protest and say he was fine eating in the infirmary, Vell had simply laughed and dragged him off to have dinner with her family. It was a little awkward, because really only Cato and the foundlings were eating, the adults of the Clan having already eaten in privacy. But the conversation was good and it felt nice to be somewhere besides the infirmary wing._

_"Tell me Cato," Lyrycia spoke up—Vell's mother, a heavy Mandalorian made of pure muscle and armour. "Where are you from? What brought you to our resident bounty hunter?" She asked, a hard note to her voice that made Cato anxious._

_He finished his bite of food and answered with as little hesitation as possible. "I'm from Alderaan," He said, feeling a little guilty. These were Mandalorians, maybe if he told them of his family they would accept him. Or maybe they would judge him. "And uh...your 'resident bounty hunter' saved my life,"_

_Lyrycia tilted her head curiously. "And he decided to keep you around for fun?" She asked skeptically, her words earning giggles from her family._

_" _Lot's_ of fun," Vell's twin brother, Zag, snickered._

_"Shut it Zig-zag," Vell hissed, slapping his arm._

_Cato felt his face flush at the insinuation, but shook his head. "No. We were both on Kappa Five in the fighting pits. We helped each other get out and then just...stuck together I guess," he gave a hopefully nonchalant shrug._

_"Fighting pits," A familiar voice scoffed. Cato flinched slightly at the sound of Paz's voice, but turned around to face the Mandalorian anyways. "Like you'd last one minute in a fight," he sneered. " _You're a liar_ ," He said, switching to Mando'a. " _And you know what liars are? Yeah?_ " he mocked. " _Cowards_ ,"_

_The Caen family had fallen very still and silent, and Cidae looked like she was about to punch Paz._

_Cato took a breath and stood up, stepping right up to Paz and looking into his visor._

_" _Eyn hut'uun e te jag meg n'vaabir sirbur kaysh takisite verd'yc,_ " Cato said calmly. _A coward is the man who doesn't say his insults outright.__

_As soon as the Mando'a left his mouth, Cato could sense the surprise radiating from everyone in the room._

_Paz was very still, looking back at Cato with such anger that Cato had half a mind to apologise and flee to the infirmary. But he didn't. Paz didn't have to like him. No one did. But he was done with the insults._

_" _Did you...just call me a coward?_ " Paz asked, voice low and angry but a note of disbelief present as well._

_" _Did I stutter?_ " Cato tilted his head to the side. " _Or is that helmet bigger than it needs to be?_ "_

_The silence in the room grew deafening as everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see what would happen._

__Crack!_ _

_It happened almost too fast for Cato to process. His vision went white with pain as Paz punched him in the face, sending Cato reeling back, eyes watering and blood pouring from his nose._

_Cidae and the Caen family all got to their feet and hurried themselves and the food to the edges of the room, leaving the middle open for a fight._

_Cato tipped his head forward and pushed back the clamour of panicked voices in his head shouting about the feeling of blood on his skin, instead raising his fists in front of him and beckoning Paz forward. " _You bet one minute, huh?_ " Cato egged on. " _Prove it_ ,"_

_☀︎︎_

_"Cato? What the hell happened?"_

_Cato perked up at the familiar voice of his Mandalorian and looked over to the door of his now designated room of the infirmary to see him rushing over._

_Cidae cackled. "He got in a fight with Paz!" She said gleefully. "You should have seen him! Did you know he spoke Mando'a? 'Cause Paz sure didn't!"_

_The Mandalorian's gaze was piercing as it slid slowly from Cidae to Cato. He gave a pained grin that didn't seem to reassure the Mandalorian in the slightest. Instead it seemed to make him angrier._

_"Vell?" he snapped, turning around to face his fellow Mandalorian. "What the hell happened? Why didn't you stop Paz? You were supposed to keep him _safe_ ,"_

_Vell held up her hands in a placative gesture. "I know!" She exclaimed. "Stars Cato, what the fuck?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips and trying to shift the blame back to Cato. But Din wasn't having it. "Fine," Vell huffed. "But in my defense—!" She pointed a finger at Din. "I haven't seen anyone with the guts to go up against Paz—much less _provoke_ him—in a _long_ time! Of course I had to watch!"_

_The Mandalorian sighed heavily and pointed to the door. "Out. Both of you," he demanded._

_"Hey, bud, this is _my_ space" Vell immediately argued. "You don't get to tell me—," She broke off and rolled her eyes as Din gave her a hard stare. "Fine. Fine! But if you two make a mess, you're cleaning it up," She commented as she grabbed Cidae and dragged her out of the room._

_Once they were gone, the Mandalorian crouched beside Cato, reaching out to hesitantly brush his finger's along Cato's cheek where a bruise had formed. "I'm sorry," He murmured. "Should have been here,"_

_Cato shook his head. "No, you had more important things to do. Speaking of, you got him? Morphine?" He asked._

_The Mandalorian nodded. "Yeah, I got him. And I killed Ytal,"_

_Cato sputtered. "You...what? You _killed_ Ytal? The guy who works for _The Valour_?"_

_"Worked," Din corrected._

_"They fired him?" Cato asked, surprised._

_"No, he's dead. I killed him."_

_Cato let out a disbelief laugh. "Wow, okay. Won't we be in a lot of trouble for that?" he asked._

_The Mandalorian shrugged, unconcerned. Then he seemed to hesitate, as if thinking something over. "Din," he blurted out suddenly, shocking Cato. "My name. It's Din. Din Djarin," He said. "I–I wanted you to know that," he added awkwardly._

_Cato just smiled, resting his hand on the cheek of his helmet. "I know," He admitted sheepishly. "Vell let it slip the first day. I just didn't want to use it unless _you_ told me," he explained._

_The Mandalorian— _Din_ —nodded, hesitantly placing his hand over the one Cato had on his helmet, leaning into the touch a little._

_"Did you win?" He asked after a beat of silence._

_A grin spread across Cato's face. "Seven minutes," he said triumphantly. "That's how long it took for him to beat me. Which means _I won_ ,"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Ne'johaa**_ : shut up
> 
>  _ **Eyn hut'uun e te jag meg n'vaabir sirbur kaysh takisite verd'yc**_ : A Coward is the man who does not say his insults outright. 
> 
> [Cidae: _sid-eye_ • Cid: _Sid_ ]
> 
> If Cidae's not careful Cato is gonna adopt her.
> 
> She was actually mentioned in book 1 but I ended up scrapping those parts, but now that I've brought her back I need to add those all back in...whoops. 
> 
> Also Paz doesn't actually hate Cato, he just refuses to admit that he actually kind of likes him after the whole fight during 'dinner'.


	7. Little Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of moments between Cidae and Cato

**I :: Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it**  
4 ABY  
☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

Once Vell and Din deemed Cato healed enough after his fight with Paz to let him wander around the Covert again without risking him tearing open the wound on his chest again, Cidae insisted on showing him around as much of the Covert as she could get away with. 

Cato happily allowed her to drag him through the bone dry tunnels, Din trailing a few steps behind as Cidae showed Cato training rooms, her room, and what wings belonged to the different clans. Cidae also boastfully introduced Cato to every foundling they came across as her ‘friend who fought Paz Vizsla’. 

At the moment, Cidae was running up a flight of stairs, waiting impatiently every few steps for Cato and Din to catch up. “Come _on_!” She urged. “You guys are _so slow_!” 

“Hey, I almost died a few days ago, give me a break,” Cato quipped, squeezing an arm across his stomach as little prickles of pain flared up. 

Cidae huffed and turned her glare to Din. “And what’s your excuse? You’re our bounty hunter, you’re supposed to be fast,” She said, resting a hand on her hip. 

“I’m helping Cato,” Din answered flatly. 

“No you aren’t. You’re not even touching him,” Cidae pointed out. 

“Moral support,” He said dryly. 

Cidae rolled her eyes and scampered up the next few steps, leading the two adults further up towards the surface. 

As they rounded the next corner, Cato saw a beam of daylight streaming into the stairwell, bright and large. He looked over at Din, confused. He had been under the impression that Din was the only Mandalorian allowed on the surface. 

But Din didn’t seem surprised at all, so Cato chalked it up to him simply not understanding how things worked here. He’d have to ask Din to clarify later. 

Cidae practically dragged Cato up the final few steps, her impatience finally getting the better of her. When she tugged Cato through the doorway, he had to squint against the sunlight, even though it was muted. He had grown accustomed to the dim lighting of the Covert and now the outside world seemed much too bright. 

But the fresh air felt nice and when his eyes adjusted he found himself in a large courtyard, walls made of rough hewn volcanic rock, a couple doorways were carved into the walls like the one they had just exited. There was a large patchwork of tarps over the top that kept Cato from fully seeing out of the courtyard—though probably more importantly kept people from seeing in. 

There were a couple other Mandalorians in the courtyard, most of them younger—around Cidae’s age—and dressed in only partial armour, though a couple full fledged Mandalorians were present as well. 

One such Mandalorian in grey armour with orange detailing started walking towards them when he saw them appear in the courtyard. 

“ _Su’cuy adiik_ ,” he said, walking up to Cidae. “Re’va says you’ve missed your last couple lessons. What’s that about?” He asked. 

“I had better things to do,” Cidae said, crossing her arms defiantly. 

The orange Mandalorian sighed and looked up at Cato and Din. “ _Su cuy’gar_ ,” _you’re still alive_. He said in greeting to Din, reaching out so they could clasp forearms. 

Din did so, holding the other Mandalorian firmly. “Rulch,” He greeted. “You’re still sane,” He commented. 

The Mandalorian—Rulch—let out a short laugh. “We cut a little closer each day,” He joked. Then he turned to Cato and looked him up and down. “This is him? The one who fought Paz?” he asked. He glanced over at Din. “ _You call dibs yet?_ ” he asked, Cato just barely catching the translation of the Mando’a. 

“Funny,” Din said sarcastically. 

Rulch laughed shortly and held a hand out to Cato. “Azio Rulch,” He introduced. “And I was just kidding,” He assured. “Unless he really hasn’t made a move,” He added quickly, a grin evident in his voice. 

“Uh,” Cato felt like his mind was short circuiting. What was going on? Had Azio just asked him on a date? Or was he joking? “Cato,” he said finally, shaking Azio’s hand firmly. He would figure this out later. 

“So I’ve heard,” Azio said. “You caused quite the ruckus when Din showed up here carrying your unconscious body,” 

Cato flushed with embarrassment. “Uh yeah, sorry,” He apologised, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Azio shook his head and waved it off. “Don’t be. It’s about time something exciting happened around here. Even fighting gets repetitive after a while. Though fucking doesn’t—,” 

“ _Gross_!” Cidae groaned, grabbing Cato’s hand. “Can’t you flirt later? Or better yet, never?” She asked scornfully as she dragged Cato away from Din and Azio towards the center of the courtyard. Cato allowed her to do so without any complaint, happy to escape a conversation that he didn’t know how to engage in. 

“So,” Cato began as they ended up in the middle of the dusty courtyard and Cidae stopped dragging him, bringing the two of them to a stop, though she didn’t let go of his hand. “You wanted to show me this place,” he prompted, trying to figure out how to ask ‘what’s so special about this place?’ without sounding like a tactless jerk. 

“Yeah,” Cidae agreed, looking up at the tarps stretched over the courtyard, the material fluttering in the occasional breeze. “You know I haven’t seen the sky in…” she trailed off. “Ten years?” she shook her head. “I miss it. This is as close as I can get to it. Surface missions are forbidden unless it's an emergency—except for Din. He’s lucky, he gets to go out there,” Cidae gestured upwards with her free hand. “He gets to see the galaxy. See the sky. Meet interesting people,” she said wistfully. Then she sighed heavily. “I want that. I don’t want to live my life underground,” She kicked at the ground miserably. 

Cato watched Cidae carefully, taking note of her furrowed brow, sad eyes, and downturned lips. A rare moment of vulnerability. He bumped her shoulder gently. “You’ll get out there one day. You’ll see the sky,” He tried to assure her. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips and he nudged her again. “I promise. Even if I have to kidnap you and smuggle you onboard the Crest, you’ll see the sky.” 

This time Cidae laughed, squirming as he poked her ribs. 

“You promise?” She asked, looking up at him with a shred of daring hope in her chestnut eyes.   
Cato smiled at her and held his hand out. “I promise,” he swore as she placed her hand in his. “ _Haat, ijaa, haa’it,_ ” 

**II :: Stone Stars**   
4 ABY

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“Where’s Cid?” Cato asked curiously when Vell came to check on him. Usually Cidae was there as soon as she was awake to eat breakfast with Cato before dragging him around the covert and bringing him to watch her lessons. It’s true that he’d only known the young girl for a handful of days, but already her absence felt foreign and not quite right. 

Vell shook her head with an amused snort of laughter while she set about unwrapping the bandages from Cato’s chest to check on his wound. “Re’va said something about her blasting a hole in the wall from practicing her blaster aim,” 

Cato winced as Vell gently prodded his sternum. “Practicing?” He wondered. 

“There’s a competition in her class tomorrow. Re’va says she’s determined to win,” Vell explained. 

Nodding, Cato wondered if beating Helion was a motivation for this sudden insistence on practicing. Or maybe one of the older students? He knew by now that ‘class’ was a loose term amongst the Mandalorians here. There basically two groups, brand new foundlings and children who were still learning the basics of combat, and then everyone else who hadn’t sworn to the Creed yet. Once you donned the helmet you were bunched with the full fledged Mandalorians and it was up to you to stay in shape, learn, and hold your own. 

“Well, you seem to be healing pretty well,” Vell said, sounding impressed. “I’ll check up in the future just in case, but unless something really bad happens, you’ll be okay,” she gave a shrug and began to clean the healing wound before placing a large square bandage over it, not bothering to wrap Cato’s entire chest this time. 

“Am I all good to leave?” he asked when she had finished. 

Vell jerked her head towards the door. “Get the hell outta here,” She urged him. “I’ll let Din know how you’re doing,” she called after him as he darted over to the door. 

“ _Vor entye!_ ” Cato called over his shoulder as he set off to find Cidae. Din was further in the covert meeting with the woman they called _bal Goran_ , or the Armourer, discussing something that Cato wasn't privy to. 

Retracing the path Cidae had led him on a few days earlier, Cato found his way to the training wing. 

“ _Din’borc’ya,_ ” A familiar female voice spoke. Re’va, the togruta Mandalorian who was one of the main instructors in the Covert, approached Cato calmly. “Looking for the _verd’ika_?” she asked, crossing her arms over her intricately detailed flame-like armour. 

“Yeah. Do you know what room she’s in?” He asked. 

Re’va nodded down the hall. “The one at the end,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you,” She spoke up before Cato could turn away. He tilted his head quizzically, wondering what she could want, but nodded and followed obediently when she started leisurely walking towards the end of the hall. “Cidae’s taken a liking to you,” she stated calmly as they walked. 

Cato nodded, unable to deny it. 

“You must have realised that is...well, unusual to say the least,” Re’va continued. Again Cato nodded. “Cidae has a hard time connecting with people, she’s been here for nine years and never connected with anyone like she did with you after a mere handful of days,” Cato felt his shoulders tense, waiting for her scorn and judgment to come down on him. But he was surprised when Re’va stopped walking and turned to face him fully with a sigh. “I wanted to thank you.” she said sincerely. “You’ve given Cidae something I and no one else have ever been able to. Family is a central pillar to the Mandalorian way of life, and that is not something we seem to have been able to give Cidae, no matter how hard we try. I hope you know how much this means to us. To her,” 

Cato was still fumbling for words when Re’va inclined her head slightly and walked back the way they had come. He knew Cidae had hard adjusting here and didn’t really feel connected to anyone and that she had grown close with him, but the idea that she had found a sense of family in him after only a few days seemed so absurd to Cato that he couldn’t process it. It couldn’t possibly be true. He and Cid were close, but she didn’t see him as a father. He was just an outsider who listened to her. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Cato hesitated a moment longer before heading down to the last room where he could hear the blaster shots coming from. 

When he stepped inside, he found the room devoid of any other Mandalorians, Cid standing alone in front of the rows of targets and firing charge after charge into the one lined up in front of her. He watched for a moment, noting her tense stance and grunts of frustration as her shots skewed from the bullseye. After her round of charges went, her shoulders slumped and he saw her angrily wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

“Hey, Cid,” He spoke up gently, stepping further into the room. Cidae immediately jumped slightly and quickly set about trying to get rid of the evidence of her tears. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” He said lightly, coming up to stand a little behind her. “How are you? Everything okay?” 

Cidae sniffed and gave a jerky nod, still not turning around. “Yeah,” She answered shortly, voice thick. 

Cato frowned and walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He asked. 

She shook her head and glared down at the blaster in her hand. “I can’t aim this _stupid_ blaster properly,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “I’m awful at this,” she said bitterly. “What kind of Mandalorian can’t shoot properly?” 

“Hey,” Cato turned her gently to look at him. “It just takes practice,” He told her and before she could get out her argument he cut her off. “And sometimes things get lost in a group lesson. Just because a method works for most of the people doesn’t mean it will for you,” He said, looking her in the eye. “That’s how it was for my sister,”

Cidae blinked at him in surprise at that remark and he saw curiosity spark in her eyes. 

He smiled a little, trying to stem the sadness at the memories of his family. “Yeah. When I learned to fire a blaster it felt...instinctual. I could just... _do_ it. It made sense. But my little sister took longer to learn. She always preferred rolling around on the floor punching people,” he laughed a little, drawing a small chuckle from Cidae. “But she learned, and I’m sure she got to be very good,” He absently wiped away some of the tears on Cidae’s cheeks. “I’m sure you’ll be the same. Come, I’ll show you,” 

Cidae blinked at him for a moment, then placed the blaster in his open palm. He turned it over in his hands, doing a quick once-over. Then he lifted it and in rapid succession fired at all the targets in the room, watching the faint trails of smoke rise from the bullseyes with a satisfied smile. 

“Woah,” Cidae breathed, staring in awe at the targets. “How’d you do that?” She asked, staring up at Cato with wide eyes. 

Cato laughed awkwardly, now feeling a little self-conscious. “Practice,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ll show you how I learned,” he said, holding the blaster out to her. She took it and he set about showing her how he learned to shoot a bullseye. 

When she missed the first few times and visibly deflated, he readjusted her position and told her to try again. She missed again. 

“What felt wrong?” He asked. 

“I don’t know,” She said miserably. 

Cato hadn’t accepted that answer. “No, tell me what felt wrong,” He pushed. 

Cid made a face and then shrugged. “I guess my arms felt a little unsteady,” She muttered. 

“Good,” Cato nodded and then showed her a couple of alternative positions for her arms, having her try each one and tell him how it felt. 

After nearly a half hour of going through that process bit by bit, Cidae hit three bullseyes in a row and she nearly threw the blaster in excitement as she jumped at Cato who caught her, startled. 

“I did it!” She exclaimed, clinging to him. 

“You did!” he lowered her so her feet were on the floor again and she stepped back, beaming. He ruffled her hair and nodded back to the target. “Now try it again,” he urged. 

☀︎︎

The two of them spent hours in that training room, Cato helping Cid hone her aim finer and finer. He gave her tips on what methods worked best in what conditions and at what distance and what exercises she could use to help her get it even more accurate. 

Now they were both lying on their backs staring up at the stone ceiling arching over them. 

Cidae shifted slightly next to Cato, having fallen uncharacteristically quiet in these last few moments. “It was today,” She whispered after a moment. 

Confused, Cato looked over at her. She was staring straight up at the ceiling, expression blank in a way that told him she was trying to hide whatever she was feeling. But he could see the shine of fresh tears building in her dark eyes. “What was?” He asked quietly. 

“The day my parents were killed,” she said, deathly quiet. A stone seemed to drop on Cato’s chest. He knew that feeling. He knew how whenever that day rolled around everything felt wrong and devastating. And suddenly her frustration with the blaster made a lot more sense. Cid sniffled. “They were nice. They were good,” She said. “They didn’t deserve to die,” And the first tear fell from her eyes. “They didn’t deserve to die that way. On their knees with a blaster to the head,” her voice was tight with anger and the strain of keeping in her sadness. 

Cato reached out and squeezed her hand, knowing that no words would quell this tide. 

Cidae ground her jaw and more tears fell. “I want to go out there,” She said firmly. “I want to go out there and make the Empire _pay_ for what they did,” She growled. “My dads...they deserve revenge. _I_ deserve revenge,” 

A strangled sob escaped Cid and Cato opened his arms, letting her shuffled closer and curl into his side while he stroked her hair. 

“Will you tell me about them some day?” He asked quietly when a few minutes passed. 

“If you tell me about yours?” Cid requested through her tears. 

“Of course,” 

A few minutes after that and Cid fell asleep, exhausted, still tucked into Cato’s side, his left arm keeping her close. Cato sighed and looked up at the ceiling, wishing he could take all the pain and anger that this young girl carried. That grief wasn’t something she should have at this age. She was too young. She should still be with her dads being a kid, looking at the sky. He would take all of her pain if he could, he was certain of that. 

Eventually Din found them, tilting his head slightly at them curiously when he walked in. 

Cato gave a smile and held a finger to his lips. Din nodded, but instead of leaving like Cato had expected, he got down on the floor on the other side of Cato and lay down too. 

**III :: Pride**  
5 ABY

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“You’re back,” Cato couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he met Din on the outskirts of the Kreiosi village, feeling wide awake despite the late hour. “It’s been a while. Everything go okay?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out to the Mandalorian.

Din gave a short nod. “Yeah, I’m okay,” He assured, looking Cato up and down with some emotion Cato couldn’t gauge. “You look beautiful.” he added after a second, voice sincere and full of some kind of want that Cato couldn’t fathom.

Cato’s face burned at the compliment and he felt weak in the knees having the force of all of Din’s attention on him. His mind seemed to be short circuiting, repeating those words in his head while simultaneously flailing desperately at something to say. Finally, he managed to gesture over his shoulder back towards the sleeping village. “Shall we?” He asked, voice higher than usual. “You’re probably tired,”

A nod was the only answer he received.

Cato accepted this as a confirmation to both statements and began to walk with Din back through the village, trying to calm his nerves.

The house he got to call his was small and simple like all the homes here. Made from a dark wood and one floor, the house had been lavishly decorated with odd baubles gifted to him. Ranging from windchimes and prisms that hung outside, to the paintings that Cato allowed the children to do on the exterior walls, to the lines of interesting rocks and dried flowers that rested in lines on the windowsills inside. It was an odd disjointed mosaic of gifts that Cato didn’t feel worthy of.

Cato led Din inside, Din standing a little awkwardly in the main room of the house that served as a joint sitting room and kitchen. Cato gestured to the door on the left. “‘Fresher’s in there if want,” he said, knowing that Din remembered this but still wanting to reinforce that Din was welcome to this house as much as Cato was.

“Wait, Cato, there’s something…” Cato turned back around to face Din, noticing the way he was shifting his weight nervously.

“Is something wrong?” Cato asked, immediately concerned. Was he injured? Had Cato done something? Had his response—or lack thereof—to Din’s compliment upset him in some way? Was he leaving? Was this the last time he’d ever see him?

“No, but I…” he hesitated. “I know when we came here I said you didn’t ever have to leave again. You didn’t ever have to fight or kill or any of that ever again and that no one would ever make you do that again. No one would ever make you leave again.” He rambled. “But it’s for Cidae,”

Alarm spiked in Cato as his mind began racing again. “Is she okay?” He asked, already thinking about what he would need to grab to go help her. “Did something happen? Is the Covert alright?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s okay,” Din assured quickly, seeming to realise his mistake. Cato let out a relieved breath. “I just came from the Covert, I was dropping off some bounties with Karga and swung by to give them the payments. Wasn’t planning on being there long, but Re’va found me before I left. Cid’s taking the Creed,”

Anxiety turned into relief which turned into elation in a matter of moment. “She did it?” Cato asked in awe.

Din nodded. “She was approved a few days ago,”

“That’s...that’s amazing,” Cato said, feeling oddly proud of the young Mandalorian.

“I was...I was thinking maybe—if you wanted—we could go see her for the ceremony?” Din suggested hesitantly. “I know you two are close, I think she’d be happy to see you there,”

Cato nodded before he could even think. “Yeah, yeah of course. I’d love to.”

Din gave a nod and seemed a bit relieved. “I don’t...I’m not sure if you’ll be allowed to actually be there with her when she takes it,” He warned. “But you can see her afterwards,”

“That’s fine,” Cato assured. “When is it? When do we need to leave?” he asked.

“It’s tomorrow. If we wake up and leave we’ll make it back in time,”

Cato nodded. “Thank you,” he glanced over his shoulder towards his bedroom. “We should get some rest. You’re probably exhausted,”

Din gave a silent nod and gestured vaguely at the door to the washroom. Cato waved him towards it and turned to go into his bedroom.

The bedroom was small, like the rest of the house, and oddly sparse. Nothing decorated the walls and the only pieces of furniture were the bed—which was just a mattress on the floor—the chest with his few belongings, and a wooden chair which wasn’t even usually in here.

Cato unwound the cloak from his shoulders and hung it on the back of the door before shedding the rest of his day clothes and changing into a soft pair of grey trousers and a white shirt. He dumped his clothes in a heap on the floor and pushed them over by the chest using his foot. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and stared at a spot on the floor.

Cid had done it. She had finally proven herself to everyone that she was ready. Cato’s heart felt like it was swelling at the pride he felt for her. He was so proud. He knew she could do it and now she had.

A couple minutes later the door to the bedroom creaked open and Din shuffled in, armour and weapons heaped in his arms, leaving him in his grey trousers and high necked shirt. The helmet tilted at Cato slightly, and Cato gave a nod, understanding.

Din shuffled over to his usual side of the bed and began to carefully lay his armour out on the blanket that Cato kept on the floor for this exact purpose.

“I can sleep in the sitting room,” Cato offered, just like he did every time.

“No,” Din answered just like every time, making Cato’s heart dance with a glee that he tried to bury.

Instead, Cato nodded and grabbed the strip of linen cloth from its place on the windowsill by their heads and shut his eyes, tying it around his head. Then he flopped down and shuffled under the blankets, flicking the lights off with a wave of his hand. He heard Din shift beside him and the gentle clink as he removed his helmet and set it beside the bed.

Then Din shuffled under the blankets as well with a sigh. Cato felt him roll over sensed Din looking at him, one of his hands resting near one of Cato’s.

“You have a question,” Cato murmured, knowing he was right.

Din gave a gentle huff of defeat. Then, “How are you?” He asked quietly.

Cato shifted and rolled onto his side so he was facing the Mandalorian. “I’m okay,” he answered truthfully. “Things are slowly getting better. _I’m_ slowly getting better. Some days it doesn’t feel like it, but...I know I am.” part of Cato felt terrified about admitting that. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be now. Was he just... _normal_? Was he really okay? Now that he had said that would Din leave?

The last one made him clench his jaw.

The unexpected touch on his cheek startled him, nerves going on high alert for a moment before he relaxed into Din’s gentle caress along his cheekbone.

“Good,” Din said softly. “You deserve to be happy,” He added, making heat rush to Cato’s cheeks and causing him to duck his head into the safety of the covers. He regretted it almost immediately as Din withdrew his touch at the action leaving Cato yearning for more.

 _No_. He told himself firmly. _This is enough_. He really tried to believe himself.

He shuffled around so his head was back out from under the blankets and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling—if he could see, that is. “I don’t know if this is possible, but…” Cato trailed off, trying to think of how to ask for this favour. “I want to do something for Cid. A gift of sorts,” he continued.

“What is it?” Din asked, clearly curious.

Cato frowned again, trying to phrase it. Then he told Din his idea, hoping the Mandalorian would agree.

Din was quiet for a moment. “I think she’d love that,” He eventually said. “I think she’d love anything you gave her, but that…” He trailed off and Cato understood. “Yes, I’ll help,” he agreed, Cato’s heart leaping with joy. “I’ll find a way to let it happen, I promise.”

A grin spread across Cato’s face and without thinking he reached out to where he knew one of Din’s hands were and grabbed it. “Thank you!”

The hitch in Din’s voice brought Cato back down to earth very quickly, embarrassment at what he had done surging through him.

“Sorry, I—,”

“It’s fine,” Din was quick to assure.

Cato didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead he cleared his throat. “We should get some rest. You’re probably exhausted,” he said awkwardly, trying not to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Din gave a hum of agreement and shifted around beside Cato before falling still.

Their fingers were still tangled together and both of them pretended not to notice.

☀︎︎

Cato couldn’t stand still. They had arrived at the Covert a little while ago and as predicted, Cato wasn’t permitted to be present while Cidae swore the Creed. He had told Din to go for him—much to the bounty hunter’s displeasure—and had subsequently been left behind in the familiar portion of the Covert, alone, while everyone was deeper inside, past the door blast doors Cato was standing outside of.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed—it felt like _years. Fifteen minutes? A half hour?_ He wasn’t sure.

When the blast doors finally slid open, Cato practically jumped away from the wall he had been leaning on to hurry towards the handful of Mandalorians filing out. He didn’t recognise any of them—except Paz who stood still for a moment to send a glare at Cato that he could feel through the helmet.

But then, a familiar voice from inside the next hall floated out.

“—don’t see why you’re here for _me_ ,” though now slightly distorted due to a modulator, it was very clearly Cidae.

“Just come get your present,” Din grumbled.

And then Cato saw them. Din looked tired and a bit tense, but normal. And then Cato’s attention was fixed on the small figure walking beside him, clad in a set of armour made up of familiar pieces, though now a shining silver helmet covered her face.

“Cid!” Cato couldn’t help it.

The newly helmeted Mandalorian snapped her gaze towards Cato, t-visor locking on him in what was clearly shock. “Cato!” with the swiftness of a loth-cat, Cidae bolted towards Cato and threw herself into his waiting arms. “You’re here!”

“I am,” Cato agreed, squeezing her tightly and spinning a little so her legs flopped around. “And you did it! You took the Creed,” he set her back on the ground and pulled back enough that he could see the visor of her helmet. His gaze softened at her, chest swelling with pride, though there was a little sting of melancholy in knowing he’d never be able to see her face again. He rested a hand on the cheek of her helmet. “I knew you could do it,” he told her. Then he knocked his forehead gently against hers. “I’m proud of you,”

Cidae just threw her arms around Cato’s neck again and pulled him into another embrace. “This is the best present ever,” She said into Cato’s shoulder.

Cato’s heart melted a little bit at that, but then he laughed. “You think this is your present?” He asked. “Ah, _ad’ika_ , this isn’t even close. Come on,” he pulled back and looked over at Din who gave a nod. “We’ve got an adventure to go on,”

“You don’t mean…” Cid said, trailing off in disbelief.

“Got everything you need for a night out?” Cato asked.

Din held up a small bag that Cato hadn’t even noticed he was carrying. Cato nodded in confirmation and began leading Cid towards the exit.

“What—?” Cid looked from Din to Cato. “Are we—? Cato—?” she stuttered, at a loss for words for the first time since Cato had met her.

☀︎︎

“What’s that one?” Cid asked, leaning across the control panel to point out a planet. Din wordlessly nudged her back a bit so he could flip a switch that she had been leaning on.

“Tatooine,” Cato answered, staring at the distant planet that seemed like a great reddish star.

“Wow,” Cidae breathed, continuing to peer out the viewports. “It looks so different in real life than on a map,” she marvelled.

Cato couldn’t help but smile at her, watching as she stared transfixed up at the stars around them. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at being able to give her this small joy. She hadn’t left Nevarro—or even the Covert from the sound of it—since she had arrived some ten-ish years ago. She deserved this, she deserved to see the stars.

“Sit down,” Din said, nudging Cidae back a few steps again. “I don’t need you flying into the controls when we make the jump,”

“The jump?” Cid asked excitedly as she took a seat in one of the chairs, Cato following suit. “We’re making a jump? Where are we going? Cato?” she asked, looking like she was about to start jumping with excitement. “Where—oh!” Cid’s question died as Din turned on the hyperdrive and the stars began to contort and streak around them.

The bending stars reflected in Cid’s brand new helmet as she stared at them, and Cato could almost picture the amazed look on her face. There was a little twinge of sadness in realizing he’d never get to see that for real ever again, but he brushed it away quickly. He was proud of Cid, that more than anything. He was proud of her and was happy she had succeeded. That was all that mattered right now.

Over the next hour, Cato and Cid caught up on everything that had happened in the year since they had last seen each other. Cato had initially suggested they go into the cargo bay, but Cid had objected immediately, wanting to stay and watch the world outside the view ports. Cato obliged happily and began to tell her about Kreios.

Eventually when he had exhausted Cid’s questions about the planet— _is it a desert? What types of poisonous flowers does it have? How many people are there? Any murderers? What’s the most dangerous creature there? Have you fought it?_ —she turned to Din and began to pester him about his most recent bounties— _who’s the most dangerous bounty you’ve brought in? What was the hardest? What was the most expensive? What was the most interesting planet?_

Din answered each of her questions simply and dryly, usually with an ambiguous answer that would make Cid groan in frustration and ask him more intently about it.

Eventually they dropped out of hyperspace, the sight of the great green planet of Kreios filling up the viewport.

“That’s Kreios?” Cid asked excitedly, jumping to her feet to run up and lean over the control board again.

Din caught her around the waist before she could interfere with his piloting again and nudged her backwards to Cato. “Sit down,” He grumbled, shifting the _Crest_ into the landing cycle.

Cidae managed to contain her excitement enough to remain seated during the landing, but as soon as the ship touched down in the clearing she was on her feet and scrambling to get into the cargo bay.

Din powered the engines off and stood up, looking at the door where Cid had vanished. “How long do you think it will take her to figure out that I locked the doors?” he asked, walking up beside Cato.

Cato snorted in amusement and gently slapped Din’s arm. “You—,”

His words were cut off as a frustrated yell came from below. “Din! Open up the doors, _shabuir_!” Cid shouted up at them.

Din glanced down at his vambrace. “Seven and a half seconds,” he answered. Cato rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his amused smile. “Come on, we’ve got a little bit to set up,” Din said, nudging him as he passed to go down into the cargo bay.

As soon as the ramps were open a crack, Cid was scrambling up the still mostly vertical surface and wriggling out of the ship, disappearing momentarily as she dropped onto the ground.

Cato expected a barrage of exclamations from outside, but heard nothing. Unease churned in his stomach slightly, but when the ramp lowered enough for him and Din to walk out he was put at ease.

Cid was just standing there, looking everywhere from the flowers and tall grasses to the evening sky above to the tree line. “It’s beautiful,” Cid murmured to herself.

Any worry that Cato had held about Cid being disappointed melted away at the awe in her voice. He tried to think of something to say, but decided to just rest a hand on her shoulder instead, finding that he didn’t have anything to say. Bringing her here said it all.

“Are you two going to help?” a disgruntled sounding Din said from behind them.

The two turned around and found the Mandalorian carrying several of the large crates from the _Crest_ off the ship.

Cato hurried over to grab the topmost crate off the stack, muttering a sheepish apology. Cid on the other hand pointedly took a seat in the grass and began to braid flower chains, choosing to ignore Cato and Din.

They allowed her act of rebellion and instead carried the remaining crates over to the base of a nearby lone tree that stood tall and proud with thick ropey branches. Cato dug through the crates, pulling out a couple stacks of thick blankets from one, a lantern from another, and so on; meanwhile Din grabbed some food from one and went to the _Crest_ to eat.

Eventually, when they had all eaten, Cato urged Cidae up into the tree, the two racing towards the top of the tree only to find Din already there and seeming unimpressed with their efforts. Cato and Cid had broken out into laughter, clinging to branches to keep from falling.

Then they had all found places to settle in the boughs of the tree and watched as the sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant golds and purples where clouds crossed its light and night began to pull closer. The mountains stood a deep blue against the fiery sky and the whole meadow went aglow in golden light. Cato looked over at Cid and saw that the dying sunlight turned her silver armour gold. He smiled at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He glanced up towards Din, who was perched a little higher than him and Cid, and found that the golden light had washed his unpainted beskar helmet in the same gold as Cid’s and that the usually worn red armour glowered like embers in this light. He looked at peace and he looked beautiful. Cato would remember this moment.

The three spent that golden and wondrous evening together in peace. After the sun had set, Cid taught them how to braid flowers like she had learned when she was little, using the light of the lantern and the last wisps of daylight. Cid proudly showed off her wildflower crown and placed it on her helmet. Cato finished his quickly, having spent a lot of time braiding flowers with the children in the village, then he placed it on Din’s helmeted head and made a teasing comment about King Din Djarin. Cid had laughed and instantly proclaimed herself princess, which led to Din giving Cato a look with an expecting tilt to his head.

“Well,” He had said. “If we’re all royalty then I guess you’ll have to be king too,” and he placed his lopsided flower crown on Cato’s head. “We’ll be married,” He said, far too calmly for how Cato’s heart leapt and all the air vanished from his lungs, leaving him floundering and wide-eyed for a few seconds.

But then Cid had jumped to her feet with a shriek and began to run around, scaring Cato out of his moment of shock. He only started laughing once he realised that Cid was chasing fireflies.

Now they all lay in the grass, staring up at the starry sky and talking in hushed voices. Cid lay between Cato and Din, turning the necklace of amber Cato had given her minutes earlier over and over in her hands.

She gave a great sigh of content and tapped her helmeted forehead to Cato’s shoulder. “ _Ibic e jate. Ibic e jatne. Vor entye,_ ” _This is good. This is the best. Thank you._ She said quietly. “Can we do this for my birthday too?” She asked with a giggle.

Cato laughed and placed a kiss to the top of her helmet. “ _Anay simir,_ ” _every year._ He promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cid is only like twelve and she's already like the coolest. 
> 
> I've been writing chapters for book 3 of Icarus because I just can't help myself because I think that there's gonna be a bit of a time jump between the end of s2 and beginning of s3 and the show is pretty ambiguous about exact times, so I'm kind of considering calling it right now that I'm diverging from canon? Not sure though. Any opinions? I have a whole story line worked out in my head for between s2 and s3 but I'm hesitant to start publishing it without knowing anything about s3. ahhhh I don't know.


End file.
